


The Love That Follows

by motleygrrrl



Series: The Love That Follows [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Confusion, Drama, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motleygrrrl/pseuds/motleygrrrl
Summary: "What do you want?"When Harry returns to Hogwarts for his final year, the last thing he's expecting is for Draco Malfoy to approach him. Between schoolwork and the swarm of students constantly trying to slip him love potions, the last thing Harry needs is confusion. But is confusion the only thing he feels for Malfoy? Or will he find that Draco's not the only one who can't stay away?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: The Love That Follows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138766
Comments: 99
Kudos: 179





	1. A Darkened Corridor

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, Internet :) I have missed every single one of your anonymous faces! Just wanted to say hello and give a quick heads-up on the story you're about to read! So hello :) This is an eighth-year fic (and no, I did not invent the term "eighth-year"; it's just a term used to avoid confusion on the timeline of events. All it means is that the story takes place at Hogwarts after the seventh book). There is a dub-con warning for this story, as well as a warning for attempted self-harm. There is also a hard warning for mature content and drama. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes there's no escaping drama. It goes wherever and does whatever it wants, and sometimes there's just no fighting it. *sigh* Sometimes it's easier just to give in.
> 
> Buuut I believe those are all the warnings I have for you at this moment! So, with nothing left but a Shakespeare quote, let's get into this thing, friends!
> 
>  _"The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love."_ —Macbeth

"But I'm bored, Hermione," Harry whined, allowing his head to fall onto the library table they were seated at in what he hoped was a pathetic enough manner to warrant sympathy.

"Too bad," Hermione responded, and Harry glared at her cruel and inhumane lack of compassion for his suffering. Was her heart made of stone? Why was he friends with someone so sadistic?

"Hermione, we've been here for bloody _ages!_ " he pointed out crossly, sitting up and folding his arms across his chest. "We've practically moved into the sodding place! Madam Pince is going to start charging us rent if we stay here any longer! I don't want to pay her rent!"

"You can afford it," she said, still not glancing up from her finished essay. Did this make the third or the fourth time she was re-reading the blasted thing? How many times was she going to look it over until it was perfect enough to hand in?

"Is this a new hobby of yours?" Harry huffed, glaring down at his own half-finished essay. "Making orphans suffer?"

The question earned a sigh, but Harry thought he might have seen her lips twitch. "You're the one making yourself suffer, Harry. If you would just finish the essay already you could be done. Why put it off when you can finish it now and not have to worry about it later?"

"Because that will be _later_ ," he grumbled. "Dealing with things later is always better than dealing with them now, I can't believe I even have to explain this to you. Ron gets it. Right, Ron?" Turning to his best friend, the same one who had always had his back and the only human being on the planet who even remotely had a chance of swaying Hermione from whatever warpath she happened to be barreling down at the time, Harry rolled his eyes at the sight that met him. Ron was sitting slumped in his chair, forehead nearly touching the surface of the tabletop and eyes closed as he snored softly. A thin line of drool stretched between his mouth and the textbook spread open before him.

"How come he gets away with not having to suffer?" Harry demanded, gesturing to the redhead. " _I'm_ the orphan here!"

Glancing up, Hermione shot Harry an exasperated look before turning to Ron and sighing. "Oh, for god's sake," she muttered, swatting his arm sharply. "Ronald!"

"Hmm," he hummed sleepily, lowering his head to the table to use the thick textbook as a pillow. A moment later and he was snoring once more.

"Why won't either of you take your N.E.W.T.'s more seriously?" she lamented, shaking her head and glaring at Ron.

"Um, maybe because it's only February?" Harry pointed out, excitement starting to spread through him as he sensed Hermione's nearing capitulation to his freedom. Escape was so close he could almost taste it. "We still have _months_ , Hermione, that's ages! Come on, I already finished most of the essay! _And_ I already did all the reading for Defense!" He shot her his best sad puppy face, wondering if it would be milking it too much to remind her that he was still an orphan.

"Oh, fine," she relented with another heavy sigh. "Go ahead, then."

Before she had even finished speaking, Harry had shoved everything into his bag and shot to his feet. "Cheers, Hermione!" he said happily as he started to stroll away.

"Wait!" she called, and he paused to turn back to face her. "Aren't you going to wait for me and Ron?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "What sane person waits for their tormenter? And Ron abandoned me and took the coward's way out by sleeping, so…" he shot her a cheeky grin, "nope!" And turning back around, Harry quickly bounced from the library, congratulating himself on a smooth escape.

Once he was far enough away from the library to start feeling safe again, he slowed his pace, content to take his time arriving back at the Tower. He wasn't sure if it was something that had been ingrained in him from spending years sneaking around the castle after hours under the Invisibility Cloak, but Harry enjoyed walking through Hogwarts alone at night, when everything was hushed and still and the corridors were cast in flickering torchlight. It made him feel like he was the only person in the entire world, a thought he found oddly comforting. He much preferred it over the reality of being fawned over and stared at and whispered about by the swarms of curious students who surrounded him in the daylight, most of whom seemed almost desperate for Harry to notice them. He had received more love letters and—he cringed as he thought the words— _fan_ _mail_ than he had ever imagined could be possible of a person. He had also had a frightening number of people attempt to slip him love potions, something that made him shudder just to think about. The last person to try had been a sodding _thirteen-year-old girl_ , for Merlin's sake! He sighed as he wondered if people would feel more or less encouraged to continue trying to slip him love potions if he and Ginny had actually gotten back together at the end of the war.

But Harry could never stand in the way of true love and had selflessly stepped aside in order to grant Ginny her deserved happiness. As soon as the offer from the Harpies had arrived, Harry had known that Ginny's extreme love and unmatched passion for Quidditch needed to come first, knowing that she would only end up someday resenting him if she passed up the opportunity to play professionally just for him. Harry had always known that it had been Ginny's biggest dream, practically since infancy, to play in the Quidditch World Cup, and she couldn't do that without first making it onto a professional team.

Harry had joked that when she did make it to the World Cup, he was expecting free tickets for his selflessness. She had joked back that he could bloody well afford his own tickets and that it was really _her_ who deserved a reward for the two of them parting ways, since she was the one who had to deal with Molly's constant nagging to get back together with Harry so they could settle down and begin immediately having as many babies as they could, all after the lavish wedding that Molly had supposedly been planning since the second her daughter had turned seventeen.

The thought made Harry shudder. Sometimes he truly did miss Ginny and what they had had between them, but he wasn't sorry things had turned out the way they had. He much preferred it over the life Molly had planned for him, at any rate. Harry loved the woman, he really did, but he had no idea why she would think that either him or Ginny were anywhere near ready for marriage and babies.

Grinning ruefully to himself at the thought of a pregnant, angry Ginny unable to play Quidditch, he suddenly stilled as he heard something. Was that…a shuffling? Was someone walking toward him? Pulling out his wand, Harry held it in a tight fist, unsure just what was coming for him from the dark.

"I've been waiting for you," a voice said, and Harry tensed as he recognized the sound.

"What do you want?" he asked sharply, raising his wand higher.

"I wanted to wait for you," Malfoy said, stepping close enough to catch the flickering light of the nearest torch.

"Why?" Harry asked again. "What the hell do you want?" The question sounded as though it was encased in ice, and Harry's suspicion momentarily melted away as a strange expression crossed Malfoy's face, one that almost looked like _hurt_.

"I wanted to wait for you," Malfoy repeated quietly, eyes flicking down to the wand Harry still held in a tense fist. "There's nothing illegal about that, you know."

The words made Harry grit his teeth in annoyance. "Well, if you're not actually going to tell me why then I'm leaving, Malfoy. I don't have time for this shit, I want to go to bed."

"Right, bed…" Malfoy murmured, stepping even closer with an odd expression on his face.

Harry fell back a step as he raised his wand even higher. " _What do you want?"_

"I've been waiting for you for so long," Malfoy continued, still ignoring the question as he stepped even closer. They now stood less than an arm's length away from one another, and Harry wasn't sure what to do. "I almost thought you were going to spend the whole night in the library."

"How did you know I was in the library?" Harry asked slowly, fighting a shiver at the strange gleam in Malfoy's eyes as they raked over Harry's entire body. What the hell was the prat doing?

"Because it's where you were, Harry," Malfoy smiled, ignoring the wand still held between them as he raised one hand to Harry's face, fingers brushing gently over Harry's cheek in a soft caress before Harry stumbled back in shock, wondering what sort of sick unfunny joke Malfoy thought he was playing. Whatever it was, Harry definitely did not like it.

Frowning, Malfoy stepped even closer as he raised the same hand as before, a strange expression on his face as he reached up to gently tangle his fingers in Harry's hair—until Harry shoved him away with one hand.

"I don't know what the fuck you're playing at, Malfoy," Harry said coldly, pointing his wand at Malfoy's confused face. "But it stops right now. Stay the hell away from me."

And with that, Harry hurried past him, speeding up as he heard the sounds of someone following after him. Ducking down a narrow side corridor, Harry slipped behind a heavy tapestry into a secret alcove, listening as he heard the sound of footsteps rush past and fade away. Once the danger was gone, Harry released a breath as he sagged back against the stone wall, wondering just what the hell Malfoy had been up to. What did the git think he was playing at, stroking Harry's hair so softly and calling the brunet by his given name? Why the hell had he been waiting for Harry and how had he known where Harry had been? Whatever the blond was planning, Harry knew it had to be evil.

After all, it was _Malfoy_. Clearly, he hadn't been caressing Harry's cheek softly, but _evilly._ And the way he had combed his fingers through Harry's hair hadn't been gentle, but _evil_. And the strange, fond, almost affectionate way he had gazed at Harry had obviously not been either fond or affectionate, but _evil_. Probably _extra_ evil. Malfoy didn't even know _how_ to be fond, affectionate, or gentle, but he certainly knew how to be evil—he had practically written the book on how to be evil. Harry didn't actually think there _was_ a book on how to be evil, but if there was, he was sure it would be about Malfoy.

"Who the hell touches someone's hair, anyway?" Harry mumbled to himself, taking a deep breath before peeking his head through the tapestry and checking the corridor. Once he determined the coast was clear, he headed back the way he had come, not wanting to risk running into Malfoy again. Harry took the first secret passage he came to, one he knew let out near the Transfiguration room rather than in the direction of the Tower, but Harry was more than willing to take an extended route to the dorm if that was what it took to avoid running into Malfoy again.

It wasn't until Harry had reached the Fat Lady and was safely inside the common room that he allowed himself to relax, shaking himself before beginning to cross the room. He had only made it halfway across, however, before he was stopped by Ron's voice.

"Harry."

Turning in the direction of the sound of his own name, Harry saw Ron and Hermione sitting together near the fire, both frowning over at him. Walking over to them, Harry dropped into an armchair with a sigh, wondering if he should tell them about what had just happened.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ron asked, peering at him closely. "We thought you would have been back ages before us. What took you so long?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry said weakly, still undecided as to whether he wanted to confide in them about Malfoy's strangeness. Maybe it had been nothing more than a case of temporary insanity and Malfoy would be all better by morning. Not that the wanker was ever really necessarily _better_ , or really ever necessarily _sane_ , considering he was the blond epitome of immorality and corruption, but maybe he would be back to his own Malfoy-version of better by morning. Hopefully the next time Harry saw him he would have already reverted back to the glares and cold sneers and the wonderful distance he had been keeping to all year. All the brunet could do was hope that Malfoy would quickly forget the new freak-Harry-out-as-much-as-possible game he was playing and revert back to his old avoid-Harry-at-all-costs-because-he's-the-opposite-of-an-evil-Slytherin-albino-tosser game he had been playing all year. Harry loved that game. In fact, the invention of that game was his favorite thing that Malfoy had ever done.

Damn it, why did Malfoy have to just change the rules like that with no warning? The very clearly defined rules that Harry had not been expecting to be broken. Why was the stupid prat always breaking the rules like that? Why couldn't he just accept the rules of the universe as they were meant to be? Obviously, the universe did not want Harry and Malfoy to interact with one another because they hadn't exchanged a single word all term, something Harry had thought the both of them were more than okay with. Why did Malfoy feel the stupid need to go against the wishes of the entire sodding universe? What gave him the right to just stop ignoring Harry like that, out of nowhere, without even asking how Harry felt about no longer being ignored? Harry liked being ignored. In fact, he preferred it.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice cut through his confusion and the swarm of unanswerable questions taking over his muddled brain, snapping his attention back onto the two friends seated across from him.

"Oh, er, what?" he asked, shaking his head slightly. God, Malfoy had barely even spoken to him and already he had completely shattered Harry's hard-earned peace of mind. _Stupid evil twat._ That peace of mind, while apparently as fragile as glass, had been hard-earned and Harry liked it being there. He didn't want it shattered. The earning of it had been so hard, damn it.

"We asked what took you so long to get back here," Hermione frowned, leaning forward to peer at him with concern.

"Oh, er, nothing," he said, attempting to force a casual tone. How could he explain what had happened when he wasn't even certain himself? "Just took the long way 'round. Just wanted to, you know, stretch my legs a bit before bed."

The frown on Hermione's face deepened as she continued to study him, but after several moments she nodded and sat back. "All right then, Harry."

"Well, I'm knackered, I think I'll go upstairs now," he said awkwardly, climbing to his feet and pausing before shrugging to himself. Without another word he turned and headed up to the dorm, quickly changing into pyjamas and climbing into bed, but he could not close his eyes without seeing Malfoy's earlier expression as he stared at Harry in the corridor, stepping closer and closer until he was close enough to touch.

Grumbling, Harry punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, and then punched it a few more times just for good measure. Once his poor pillow had been sufficiently punched to his satisfaction, he buried his face in it and willed himself to fall asleep, pleading to whatever higher power might be listening to help him forget the feeling of Malfoy's evil fingers combing gently through his hair and the silken feel of his evil hand on Harry's cheek.

Harry spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself that he had hated the feeling of both.

oOo

The Great Hall sounded louder than usual, for some reason. Harry ignored his breakfast as he sipped his tea slowly, attempting to draw it out for as long as possible to avoid the temptation to glance over at the Slytherin table, which was always the quietest table in the loud room, and the one part of the Hall that now kept drawing Harry's attention. Damn it, he knew he should have sat with his back to the Slytherins. But before he had taken a seat, he hadn't actually thought it would be so _very fucking tempting_ to glance over and scan the table for Malfoy's stupid evil platinum hair. God, why was it so hard not to look over there? Maybe only for a quick second, just to see what the blond was up to…

One second later and Harry already regretted his decision to give in to temptation. Malfoy was staring directly at him, making Harry gasp at the overwhelming intensity pouring from the other boy's eyes and shooting across the large room to pin Harry into place as effectively as a spell. Christ, why was Malfoy staring at him like that? Harry wasn't sure if he had ever been stared at like that before, not even by Ginny or any of the rabid stalkers that had been actively attempting to slip him love potions for the past several months. The gaze just seemed different, and Harry couldn't put his finger on why.

Still staring directly into Harry's eyes, Malfoy smiled a small, almost flirty smile as he took a bite of toast, not even blinking as he licked the crumbs from his lips. The sight sent a strange tingling sensation through Harry's stomach, one he did not know how to interpret and one he did not even want to attempt to interpret. It was a sensation that was much better off being left uninterpreted, and Harry had no problem leaving it that way.

Sighing resignedly, Harry finally forced himself to break the strange staring contest, glaring down at his breakfast as he realized how easily Malfoy was able to completely destroy Harry's peace of mind and throw his every thought into chaos and confusion. What was wrong with Harry? Why couldn't he just ignore the Slytherin as easily as Harry ignored all the other thousand million students who were always staring at him? It was just Malfoy, for fuck's sake; Harry shouldn't even be thinking about him, and he certainly should not be worrying or stressing over the evil git! He should be doing what he had done every single morning since the start of term—not thinking about Malfoy and not looking in his direction. That was always how Harry started every single day, and Malfoy did not have the right to just throw Harry off his schedule like that with no warning. It was a good schedule; Harry _liked_ his schedule, damn it.

Glancing up, Harry startled and flushed at finding Malfoy _still_ staring at him, a hungry, almost ravenous look on his face as his eyes raked over every inch of Harry. The intensity with which he was staring at Harry made him feel oddly vulnerable, as though Malfoy could see right through his clothing. Harry certainly wouldn't put it past him to be able to do something so gross and immoral. Damn it, he was practically violating Harry with his eyes! _Evil Slytherin pervert_ , Harry thought viciously. _What the hell does he even want?_

But with the way Malfoy was still eyeing him, Harry thought he might have a pretty good idea of what it was that Malfoy really wanted. But that couldn't be right, could it? Maybe Malfoy was plotting something sinister for Harry and _that_ was the real reason he was _still_ staring at the brunet.

That was it, Harry nodded to himself. Malfoy was just up to his regular everyday villainy and was simply plotting a messy and violent death for Harry.

The thought sent an instant feeling of relief through him. Death threats Harry could handle; unwanted lust from his schoolyard rival he could not.

Harry glared at Malfoy, wondering just how savage and bloody Malfoy's revenge fantasy for Harry really was. _Just as long as his evil plot doesn't include touching my hair again_. After all, there was evil, and then there was just plain weird, and Harry would prefer to deal with the evil rather than the weird.

Thinking back to the previous night of the hair-touching incident made Harry shiver. With revulsion, of course. Right? This was very clearly revulsion swirling through him at the memory of Malfoy's fingers gently combing through Harry's hair.

After all, what else could it be but disgust?

oOo

"Well, at least this one wasn't thirteen," Ron said in what Harry assumed he thought to be a comforting voice. "That's at least some progress, yeah?"

Harry rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, because fourteen is really so different? She was _fourteen_ , Ron!"

"Eh, it's some kind of improvement, at least," Ron grinned, and Harry glared at his obvious amusement.

"I bet you wouldn't think it was so funny if _you_ were the one half the castle was trying to enslave on a daily basis," the brunet grumbled, still glaring. "I swear to god, if one more fucking person tries to slip me a goddamn love potion…When the hell did we start going to school with so many nutters, anyway?"

"Pretty much since the very first day," Ron said with a snort. "Did you forget how many years we've spent sharing classes with Slytherins?"

"Yeah, but at least the Slytherins are just pratish bigoted arseholes," Harry muttered. "I know what they say is shit so I can just ignore it. But these new deranged lunatics are literally trying to drug me into becoming some sort of love slave! I don't even want to know what they were all planning on doing with me if any of the potions worked! Fucking _fourteen years old_ , Ron!"

Ron sniggered and Harry glared, wondering how he could ever be friends with such an evil git.

"I still think my favorite was that Hufflepuff fifth, remember? The bloke who followed you around for two months before trying to give you the potion in a butterbeer he spiked during a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron laughed and Harry glared even harder; he had been actively trying his hardest to repress that particular memory. Why would Ron force him to remember such a traumatizing event?

"No, I don't remember because it never happened," Harry stated adamantly, crossing his arms as he silently dared Ron to argue.

"Cheer up, mate," Ron chuckled, "at least no one's trying to kill you anymore, yeah?"

Harry could only stare. "What are you talking about, Ron? This is _way_ worse! I think I might actually prefer hunting down Horcruxes over being targeted by perverse, sexually frustrated fourteen-year-olds!"

Whatever reply Ron was opening his mouth to say was cut off by the arrival of Hermione, who swept into the common room with a frown.

"Hermione!" Harry turned to her as she took a seat in the nearest armchair. "Ron's talking bollocks at me again! Give him one of your lectures on how wrong and unfunny slavery is!"

"What?" Hermione's nose scrunched up in confusion as she turned to Ron. "What are you saying about slavery?"

"Er, nothing," Ron mumbled, clearly wanting to avoid one of Hermione's impassioned tirades about the disgusting immorality of love potions and how wrong it is to magically bind someone to another person against their will. Hermione certainly did not find the situation as funny as Ron did. Harry shot the redhead a smug look.

"So, what happened with Emsworth?" Harry asked her, hoping it would be a severe enough punishment to scare everybody else off from trying to slip him another stupid love potion.

"Same thing as all the others," Hermione sighed. "A fifty House point deduction and a months' worth of detentions with Filch."

"I still say that's not enough," Harry grumbled, sinking angrily down in his chair. "Is that really all my free will and consent are worth? These sick perverts are clearly too unbalanced to be amongst the normal non-perverse people! I mean, would either of you _ever_ truly consider slipping someone a love potion?"

The look Hermione gave him spoke volumes. Ron just laughed.

"They're just desperate, Harry," he grinned. "Desperate to be chosen by the Chosen One. They're just sad disillusioned virgins who want to turn you into their willing sex slave. I say to appreciate how far people are willing to go to be with you."

"It's not funny, Ron," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Harry's right, everybody deserves to be able to give true consent to who they want to be with. Love potions are dangerous; people under their influence think and act irrationally and have oftentimes been known to turn violent and possessive. And taking another person's free will away when it comes to making decisions about sex _does_ constitute as rape, you know, regardless of how much the magic makes them think they're willing at the time."

Ron's smile vanished. "Oh come on, it's just a laugh, Hermione, nobody's going to rape Harry! None of the little nutters have even gotten away with anything!"

"Yeah, but not for their lack of trying," Harry complained.

"Maybe you should just get yourself a new girlfriend, then," Ron shrugged, sounding as if something like that was really just as easy as saying it. "Maybe they'd leave you alone more if you were already taken."

Harry rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "Yeah, or maybe they'd try even harder _because_ I'd be taken."

"Get yourself a bloke, then," Ron grinned. "Maybe all the girls would finally leave you alone if they thought you were bent."

Harry and Hermione both stared at him incredulously and it took several seconds before Harry could speak, turning to glance at Hermione. " _This_ is exactly what I meant by bollocks, Hermione. I think he's gone mad." Turning back to Ron, Harry's eyes narrowed into a glare. "First off, I'm not bent. I think I'd know that about myself by now if I were. And second, if these girls are willing to drug me against my will, I seriously doubt that something like my orientation would be the thing to stop them. And lastly, what makes you think that that wouldn't just encourage more blokes to try it?"

"Oh, right," Ron's expression fell. "Well, guess you're just stuck dealing with the lunatics, then."

"I hate my life," Harry moaned, earning a sympathetic look from Hermione and a snigger from Ron. "I need to get out of here. I'm going for a walk or something, I'll see the two of you later."

"It's almost curfew," Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, _almost_ meaning _not yet_."

"Fine, just don't get caught," she sighed.

"Or assaulted," Ron added. "Or molested. And don't drink anything anyone gives you."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "As if you needed to tell me that."

Striding to the far side of the room, Harry clambered through the portrait hole and into the quiet solitude of the empty corridor. Cracking his neck, his feet began to drift forward aimlessly, unsure where he wanted to go and uncaring where he ended up. All he knew was that he did not want to be around the noise of the common room.

But he had only been wandering for several minutes before he suddenly became aware that it was less quiet than it should be. Were those…footsteps? Was someone following him? Someone heinous and corrupt and perverted with another malicious potion to force on him?

 _Right on all three adjectives_ , Harry thought wryly to himself as his stalker finally came close enough to see. Malfoy stood several meters away, an intense look in his eyes as he stared at the brunet.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked tightly, slipping his wand into his hand. At that moment, he had no idea what Malfoy wanted or what he was capable of.

At the question, a silky, almost seductive smile spread across Malfoy's lips. "Hmm," he murmured, slowly beginning to walk forward. "What do I want…?"

"Yes," Harry snapped, wanting to back away but refusing to do so. He had never been afraid of standing his ground against the blond before, and he refused to start now. But then again, he had never felt so unexplainably nervous around Malfoy before either. It wasn't fear Harry was feeling, because he was a brave eighteen-year-old Gryffindor with his own Order of Merlin, First Class—he clearly was not capable of feeling fear. But still…there was something in the way Malfoy looked at him, the way he moved toward him, that sent a shiver of _something_ tingling down Harry's spine. Why was he looking at Harry like that…?

"I want to talk to you," Malfoy said calmly, still walking forward. "We have things we really need to talk about, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the other boy's use of his given name. Addressing one another with surnames put a comfortable distance between them that first names did not. What the hell did it mean that Malfoy was suddenly referring to Harry by his given name? He had never once referred to Harry by his first name before and Harry did not like the strange uneven footing it put him on.

"We don't have anything to talk about," Harry said sharply, still refusing to tuck his wand away. "Where is this even coming from anyway? You haven't said a single word to me all term!"

Malfoy gave him a strange look at that, and Harry had no idea what to make of the expression. What was the blond thinking? "Maybe I was simply waiting to build up the nerve," he said softly, finally coming to a stop less than an arm span away from Harry.

Oh, Christ, Malfoy wasn't planning on touching his hair again, was he? Because Malfoy had said he wanted to talk, and hair-touching was definitely _not_ talking.

Although Harry supposed it was possible to touch another person's hair _whilst_ talking…But that wasn't the point! He shook himself from the strange trail of thought he had started to wander down and back into the moment, into the burning heat of Malfoy's stare.

"Build up the nerve for what?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering what Malfoy had said. What did that even mean? What the hell was going on?

"To talk to you," Malfoy whispered, so quietly that Harry automatically leaned closer to catch his words. "To say…" he paused as his eyes swept over Harry, studying his face for several long moments. "Thank you," he finally finished, still not looking away.

The unexpected gratitude shocked Harry into total paralysis; he could do nothing but stare. Had Malfoy just thanked him? Harry had no idea that Malfoy even knew _how_ to thank someone. When had Malfoy learned how to thank someone? When had he even learned what the words _thank you_ meant? And what was he even thanking Harry _for_?

"Thank me?" he croaked, wondering if maybe he had heard wrong. Maybe he had hit his head on something hard and was hallucinating all of it; maybe none of this was actually happening, maybe he was lying injured somewhere in a pool of his own blood, having a strange and vivid hallucination about Malfoy.

Harry frowned. He didn't want it to be real at the same time he didn't want it to all be in his head. Why would his brain pick _Draco_ _Malfoy_ to hallucinate about? The git was definitely not worth hallucinating about. He wasn't even worth dealing with in the real world, let alone an imaginary one.

"Yes," Malfoy smiled, shifting even closer. "For everything you did for me. I never actually thanked you for saving my life. So, thank you."

"Er…" Harry was at a loss for words; he had no idea how to respond. "Well, um, you're welcome then, I guess?"

Malfoy's smile widened. "I thought maybe I could thank you properly and we could start over, the two of us."

"Start over?" Harry echoed, mind still blank and body still numb.

"Yes," Malfoy nodded, "I really think we should. But only after I've thanked you properly, like I said I would."

"Er, but you already did," Harry pointed out, feeling more confused than ever. What on earth was Malfoy even saying?

The same sensual smile from earlier was back on Malfoy's face, making something hot unfurl in Harry's stomach at the sight. _Oh, god_. That smile was obviously pure evil, Harry just knew it. Malfoy was about to do something completely depraved and unspeakably vile to him, and Harry was too frozen in shock to do anything to defend himself. He could battle Horcruxes and fight the forces of evil with no problem, but one single flirty smile from Malfoy had paralyzed him into a useless block of frozen disbelief.

" _This_ is how you thank someone properly, Harry," Malfoy murmured, and before Harry even had time to wonder what those words meant, Malfoy stepped forward and pressed his lips to Harry's, surprising the brunet even further, which he had not actually thought could be possible at that point. Between the continued use of his given name and the warmth of Malfoy's mouth against his own, the way one hand cupped Harry's jaw as the other slid into his hair to grip the strands with gentle fingers, Harry was at a loss for what to do.

Then, to his horror, he found himself responding, lips hesitantly pressing back without conscious permission from his brain telling them to do so. It made Malfoy moan and pull him even tighter against his own body. God, how long had it been since Harry had last kissed someone? It had been months, ever since Ginny, and Harry was ashamed of how much he liked the feeling of Malfoy's fingers combing through his hair and the way his hand felt sliding down to rest on Harry's chest.

Seemingly against his will, his eyes slid shut, and he wondered why his brain had decided to take on a mind of its own without his permission. God, was he really letting Malfoy kiss him? _Why?_ But the feeling was almost…pleasant, somehow. Harry hadn't had a good snog in a while and Malfoy was—to Harry's eternal shame and surprise—not necessarily a bad kisser. Malfoy's lips felt so soft molded to his own, and Harry gasped as Malfoy tilted his head to deepen the kiss, tangling his fingers tightly in Harry's hair and holding his head in place as he began to kiss Harry more fiercely, a low sound that was nearly a growl escaping the blond as Harry allowed the kiss to continue.

 _Oh, god!_ With a sudden wrench, Harry pulled back as best he could, separating their mouths but unable to move completely away with the firm grip Malfoy still had on him.

"Mmm," Malfoy hummed in a husky voice, "you taste even better than I thought you would."

"Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing?" Harry whispered fearfully, deciding that just this once, in a situation this extreme, even Gryffindors with heroic medals of honor were allowed to feel fear.

"This," Malfoy replied, leaning forward to kiss him again, but Harry turned his head away before any more dangerous and confusing kissing could happen, struggling to break free from the iron hold the blond still had on him.

"Malfoy, stop it!" Harry finally succeeded in shoving him away, raising his hands to his tingling lips in shock. "What the hell are you _doing?"_

At the question, Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "Do you not know what a kiss is, Harry? Would you like me to explain?"

"I meant why are you doing it!" Harry grit out, grinding his teeth together. What kind of sick game was Malfoy playing?

"Because I wanted to, obviously."

"No, you didn't," Harry narrowed his eyes at the blatant lie. There was no way Malfoy wanted to kiss him, that was just not possible. That was like saying that Dudley had given up cake or that Uncle Vernon had eighteen-years' worth of birthday presents for Harry in the post. It simply could not ever be, not in the real world. Maybe Harry really was hallucinating.

"But I did want to, Harry," the blond said softly, stepping closer. "I still want to. Like I said, we can start over. And what better way to start fresh than with a kiss?"

"Yeah," Harry said incredulously, "only you don't get to just go around kissing people out of nowhere like that! Jesus, at least try asking their permission first!"

"You kissed back," Malfoy pointed out, sounding far too smug for Harry's liking.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Malfoy," Harry growled, backing up to a safe distance just in case Malfoy got the insane idea to kiss him again. Or worse—touch his hair. "I mean it."

"You kissed back, Harry," Malfoy repeated, eyes glittering in the weak torchlight.

"I never said you could kiss me in the first place!" Harry cried, feeling nearly hysterical. Jesus Christ, he really had kissed Malfoy back! Why?! Why would he have ever done something like that?! Why had he liked the feel of Malfoy's body pressed so tightly against his own? Harry shuddered at the remembrance. It was _Malfoy_ , for Christ's sake, he shouldn't be thinking things like that!

"You kissed back," Malfoy repeated, taking a step closer, and Harry automatically scrambled farther away from the dangerous blond.

"I said stay away from me!" And without waiting for a reply, Harry turned and all but fled, not slowing until he was safely back in his dorm, hidden from the entire confusing, insane world behind his crimson bed curtains. Curling into a ball, Harry raised a trembling hand to his mouth, tracing his lips with shocked fingers. He had no idea what to make of any of what had just happened and was desperately hoping it had all been some fevered dream his brain had cooked up in a temporary fit of insanity. _Not a dream, a nightmare_ , he corrected himself. _It was a nightmare_. _Obviously, a nightmare._

But Harry could not get the feeling of Malfoy's soft lips pressed against his own to fade from his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget. He could still feel Malfoy's fingers combing through his hair, tugging gently at the strands, raking over his scalp in a way that he was refusing to admit to himself he had found pleasant.

 _Great, now I'm traumatized,_ Harry thought grumpily to himself. The experience had most likely damaged Harry, maybe even forever. _Stupid evil Slytherin, kissing me out of nowhere and making me almost like it and making me kiss him back and confusing me and making me run away like some scared twat._ Harry sighed and thumped his head against the pillow, willing himself to fall asleep and not have to think about or remember anything for at least a few hours. He would deal with his trauma in the morning.

And for the second night in a row, Harry fell asleep thinking about Malfoy.

oOo

The next morning, Harry sipped at his scalding tea and tried to ignore his trauma, stomach still too tied in knots to finish his breakfast. He had woken feeling well-rested and relaxed, smiling to himself as he stretched…until three seconds later when he bolted upright in his bed, feeling panic begin to spread through him.

Oh god, oh Merlin, oh Christ, oh _fuck,_ Harry had kissed Malfoy! _No, Malfoy kissed_ me! Harry thought desperately, clinging to the tiny scrap of relief he felt at the thought that he was not the one who had initiated it, even if he had sort of maybe almost kind of kissed the git back, just a bit…

But only for a second! Two seconds at the most! Right? Even though Harry wasn't actually sure how long the kiss had lasted—it had felt like both a quick second and an entire century. But Harry still didn't even know why it had happened! He still had no idea why Malfoy had specifically sought him out just to throw himself at Harry like that. Was it really because he had simply wanted to, like he had said? Or was it for some far more sinister reason? The confusion was making Harry's head pound and he climbed quickly from his bed, hoping he could throw himself into his morning routine so fully that his mind would not have room to focus on anything else.

Harry snorted into his tea, shaking his head at how disastrously _that_ idea had worked out. He should have known from the beginning it was doomed to fail—Harry had never been any good at getting Malfoy off his mind and had entered the Great Hall still thinking about the evil wanker.

At least he had learned from the previous morning and was currently sitting with his back to the Slytherin table, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder and look for Malfoy. Was he watching Harry? Was he thinking about Harry? Had he fallen asleep last night thinking about Harry, just as Harry had fallen asleep thinking about him? What did any of it even mean?

"I think Malfoy's staring at you," Ron said in a low voice, interrupting the current spiral of confusion tearing through Harry's insides.

"What?" His entire body froze as he fought the automatic urge to look over to the Slytherin table to see for himself.

"I think he's staring at you," Ron frowned, looking past Harry with narrowed eyes. "It doesn't even look like he's blinking." Ron sent a rude hand gesture in the direction of the Slytherins, frown deepening. "Hmm, he didn't even respond to that. Something weird is definitely going on with him."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, heart hammering as he wondered if he should tell Ron and Hermione what had happened.

"Maybe he's just lost in thought or something and just happens to be glancing this way," Hermione cut in.

"Yeah," Ron smirked, "or maybe he's got a crush on Harry."

At the words, Harry's stomach dropped. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron," he said harshly, startling himself at the vehemence in his words "Malfoy does _not_ have a bloody crush on me!"

"All right," Ron said in surprise, holding up both hands palm out in a conceding gesture. "All I'm saying, though, is that he's looking at you like he's mentally undressing you. He's not even eating, he's just…staring. It's sort of creepy, to tell you the truth."

"I'm not hungry," Harry said suddenly, climbing to his feet and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you guys in class." And without waiting for a response, Harry hurried from the Great Hall, wondering for possibly the millionth time just what the hell was going on with Malfoy. It wasn't possible that he really did have a crush on Harry, was it? There was no way that Ron could be right, and yet…

Harry sighed and kicked the wall, knowing that nobody just walked around kissing people they did not have feelings for and were not attracted to. But what did that mean then that Harry had kissed him back? What did it mean that it had taken him so long to shove the blond away? Why was Harry's life so intent on never making a single ounce of sense to him?

"Good morning, Harry," a voice said behind him, and Harry's entire body froze at the sound. Moving slowly, he reluctantly turned to face the very same albino prat he had just been thinking about.

Damn, the prat really was standing there. Harry had been hoping that he was simply losing his mind and had merely imagined the sound of Malfoy's voice. Oh, what he would have given to not be sane at that moment.

"Malfoy," he croaked, clearing his throat with a blush. Oh Merlin, why was Malfoy turning him into such a horrible awkward weirdo? Harry missed the days when he could just tell Malfoy to shut up and sod off without feeling any sort of discomfort. "What do you want?"

The same flirty smile from yesterday spread across Malfoy's pretty lips. _No, not pretty!_ Harry corrected himself in a sudden panic. _They are definitely not pretty! I meant his_ evil _lips! His stupid evil lips doing stupid evil things like kissing people who do_ not _want to be kissed and smiling at people who do_ not _want to be smiled at!_ All Harry wanted was to be left alone.

"I think you know what I want," Malfoy said suggestively, taking a step closer.

"No, I don't!" Harry shook his head, hoping that if he denied everything, it would all just go away. Denial had never failed anybody before, right? Harry was sure he was probably right. Maybe. Mostly, at least. It sounded reasonable as long as he didn't think about it too much. "I don't know what you want, Malfoy!"

"Of course you do," the blond said, taking another step closer. "I want to say good morning." His smile widened.

"Well, all right then," Harry said, feeling nearly frantic. "Good morning. And now goodbye."

Turning to leave, he glanced down in surprise to find a hand on his arm, preventing his escape.

"Wait, Harry," Malfoy murmured, standing directly behind him, so close that Harry could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body.

"You already said good morning!" he snapped, jerking his arm from Malfoy's grip and taking a swift step farther away.

"I was thinking of a better way to say it," Malfoy said in a low voice, closing the distance between them once more, and before Harry even had time to respond, Malfoy's lips were once again pressed to his in a firm kiss and he was suddenly wrapped around Harry's body like a platinum-haired octopus. One arm wound itself around Harry's waist as the other hand crept up into Harry's hair, fingernails scratching lightly over his scalp, and Harry felt himself shiver at the feeling. _Oh, god_.

Malfoy continued raking his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry could feel himself melting at the pleasant sensation, an embarrassing whimper escaping his throat as Malfoy deepened the kiss, gently shifting Harry backward to press him against the stone wall of the empty corridor.

Harry felt his heart hammering so hard he was certain Malfoy must be able to hear it. Feeling dizzy and light-headed, Harry clutched at Malfoy's shoulders, willing himself to stay upright. Oh, god, how was Malfoy doing this, how was he making Harry feel this way? Harry couldn't remember ever feeling like _this_ before _,_ even when he had been with Ginny. How was Malfoy making his entire body feel as though it was on fire?

Humming happily, Malfoy's lips left his as he began to spread kisses down Harry's neck, scraping his teeth over the skin of Harry's throat. A breathless groan escaped Harry, and at the sound, Malfoy tightened his hold on him, pressing himself even harder against the brunet, keeping him trapped between Malfoy's warm body and the cold stone wall behind him and feeling nearly dizzy from the stormy mix of emotions crashing through him like angry tidal waves. He could feel desire and confusion warring with one another, and he honestly could not say which was the stronger of the two.

"Malfoy," he managed, a startled sound escaping him as Malfoy's mouth suddenly found his again, kissing Harry deeply in what he suspected was an attempt at shutting up whatever protest Harry was very, absolutely, one hundred percent certain—well, pretty sure, at least—he had been about to make.

And just as Harry was fearing losing himself forever in the bizarre and overwhelming feeling of kissing Draco Malfoy, sudden distant laughter had him snapping back into himself and he froze for a moment before gripping Malfoy's arms and forcing him back a step.

Malfoy was breathing heavily, lips reddened and cheeks pink, and Harry could not help but want to pull him back in for another kiss at the sight, wanting to smack himself in the head in the very next second for even thinking such an awful thing. Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him?! What was wrong with the _both_ of them?!

"Wasn't that a better way to say good morning?" Malfoy asked in a low throaty voice, one that sent tingles down Harry's spine.

"Most people just use their mouths to say good morning," Harry whispered, shock coursing through every inch of his body as he stared at the blond still held in his grasp.

"I did use my mouth," Malfoy laughed, attempting to step forward to kiss Harry only to be stopped by Harry's firm grip on his arms, keeping him at a safe distance. He frowned down at Harry's hands, as though confused as to what they were and what they were doing there. But they had every right in the world to be there and were the only things stopping Harry from losing his mind, because they were the only things currently keeping Malfoy at a distance.

"Why are you doing this? What the hell do you want from me?" Panic laced Harry's every word, increasing as he heard the distant sound of voices growing louder. _Fuck_. He released Malfoy as though burnt, backing several meters away and eyeing the blond with clear distrust.

Malfoy tilted his head as he considered Harry, appearing to be pondering how best to answer the question. "Meet me tonight," he finally said, "at midnight. In the East Tower. I'll answer your questions if you come."

"You're insane," Harry shook his head, "I'm not going to just walk into some Slytherin ambush, Malfoy! You already tried this in first year when you sent Filch after me and Ron the night of that stupid duel you challenged me to, the one you never actually showed up to! You're daft if you think I'm falling for that shit again!"

Malfoy sighed. "I promise this isn't a trick, Harry, I swear it. Please meet me? I promise I'll answer whatever questions you have if you just come."

Harry felt himself starting to give in; the offer to finally get the answers to the million questions he had been asking himself for the past two days was just too tempting.

"And besides," Malfoy continued, "don't you have your Invisibility Cloak? Wear it to the Tower tonight if you don't trust me. I mean, I can hardly ambush someone I can't even see, can I?"

"I s'pose not," Harry said suspiciously, eyes narrowed. Sudden movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to see students beginning to trek toward the two of them. " _Fuck_ , fine then, Malfoy, you win, I'll meet you tonight at midnight."

A sincere smile lit up Malfoy's face, softening the pointed edges and making him look almost…pretty. Certainly less evil than he normally looked, at least. "I'll see you tonight then, Harry," he murmured, taking a step forward as though he was intending on kissing Harry goodbye, something Harry responded to by quickly backing away, ignoring the crestfallen expression on Malfoy's face.

A nod was Harry's only farewell before the brunet turned and strode away, wondering what the hell he had just agreed to.

**TBC**


	2. In a Moonlit Harbor

The Tower was cold.

It was cold and covered in shadows, the room dimly lit from the grey moonlight pouring in through the large window carved into the wall opposite him. Draco Malfoy sat perched on the wide ledge, swinging his legs and sighing, and Harry watched as he pulled out a large expensive-looking pocket watch, flipping it open and sighing again before snapping it shut and tucking it away.

"God, I hope he actually shows up," Malfoy muttered to himself, sounding worried, and something about the sadness and the obvious anxiety in his voice tugged at Harry's heartstrings, making him momentarily soften toward the blond.

Wondering if he was insane for doing such a thing, Harry slid the Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders and set it on a nearby table. "Malfoy," he said softly, and Malfoy gasped as his head snapped up, a look of pure wonder on his astonished face.

"You came," he whispered, hopping down from the ledge and nearing Harry cautiously, as though Harry was a wild animal that he was afraid of spooking. "You really came, Harry."

"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged uncomfortably, speaking down to his shoes, "you promised me answers, so…"

"Is it just the answers you came for?" There was hesitation in Malfoy's voice, along with an edge of something that sounded almost like hurt, and Harry felt himself grow even more uncomfortable.

"Er…"

Neither boy said a word.

"Look, Malfoy," Harry finally broke the tense silence, unable to take it any longer. "I just want to know what sort of game you're playing, because I don't understand any of it and I just want the world to start making sense again. So just tell me what you're up to so I can get my peace of mind back already, all right? Because I really miss it and I don't like it not being there. So just tell me what's going on. Er, please," he tacked on, wondering why he had added the final word.

Malfoy peered at him curiously, head tilted to the side. "Game?" he wondered, stepping closer. "What on earth makes you think this is a game to me, Harry?"

"I don't know what the hell it is!" Harry sighed explosively, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I don't know what the hell you're doing or what it is that you want from me! I don't understand what's happening, Malfoy! I don't understand any of it, so please just explain it to me already, because none of it makes any sense!"

A small smile crossed Malfoy's face as he folded his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on his back foot. "Do I really need to explain the meaning of a kiss to you?"

"Yes," Harry growled, feeling his patience start to wear thin. Was Malfoy intentionally refusing to answer his questions? Or did he really think that answering a question with another question was an acceptable way to answer?

"It means," Malfoy said, striding closer and closer until his body was only centimeters from Harry's own suddenly nervous one, "that I wanted to kiss you. I could ask you what it means that you kissed me back."

"We're not talking about me," Harry glared, unwilling to discuss his hopeless confusion over just why it was that he had kissed Malfoy back—and not just the once, but twice. "I want to know why you approached me out of nowhere like that and kissed me, especially since you've been actively ignoring me all term." And oh, how Harry missed the simplicity of those peaceful days. Now his life was nothing but strange blonds and bewilderment.

"I've always wanted to kiss you," Malfoy murmured, sending Harry staggering back in shock.

"What the hell does that mean?" he whispered, unsure if he could really believe those words.

"Honestly, Harry," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "it means exactly what I said. I kissed you because I've always wanted to. I wanted to thank you for everything that you did for me, so I figured why not thank you with a kiss?"

"But why now?!" Harry asked shrilly, hating how high-pitched Malfoy was apparently capable of making Harry's voice go. Harry didn't even know his voice could go so high, damn it! "Everything you thanked me for happened months ago! Term started bloody _months_ ago! Why wait until now to approach me, completely out of nowhere like that?"

Malfoy tilted his head again as he thought, and Harry was surprised at how confused he looked at the question, as though he himself did not even know the answer. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, "perhaps I was ashamed? Or shy? Maybe I was simply building up the courage to speak to you. Is it really that important?"

"You make it sound like you don't even know," Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

"It's not something I had paused to consider," Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps the timing was simply right."

"And what made you think I wouldn't have hexed you blind for it?" Harry wondered curiously, unable to resist asking the question. He had been wondering it since the previous night, wondering just how Malfoy had felt so comfortable walking up to Harry in a dark corridor with no warning before forcing himself on the brunet.

Malfoy shrugged again, appearing unconcerned at the possibility. "Perhaps I simply thought it worth the risk."

Gaping wordlessly, Harry stared at the strange boy in silence, mind struggling to comprehend everything Harry had been told so far. Was Malfoy really confessing to having _feelings_ for Harry? For how bloody long? He had even used the word _always_ — _I've always wanted to kiss you_. But what did it _mean?_

"I don't understand you," Harry said weakly after an entire century of the two boys staring at one another in heavy silence. "I don't understand anything you're saying, you're not making any sense! This has to be some sort of stupid, sick joke, Malfoy, I know it! So just tell me now and have your laugh and then we can go back to living in a world that actually makes sense again, yeah?"

"It's not a joke, Harry," Malfoy argued, sounding frustrated. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Harry's eyes narrowed as another question suddenly occurred to him. "Why are you calling me by my first name now?" he asked suspiciously. "You've never called me by my first name before. And yet now, out of nowhere, I'm Harry and not Potter. When did that change and why wasn't I made aware of you breaking the rules?"

"The rules?" Malfoy snorted, shaking his head. "What rules?"

"The surname rules! The rule of surnames! The one that says that I'm Potter and you're Malfoy! That rule has existed practically since the moment we met one another, you can't just change it out of nowhere like that, without even telling me!"

"Oh, Harry," Malfoy laughed fondly as he eyed Harry with a warm look. "You are too precious sometimes. I told you I wanted us to have a fresh start, didn't I? And what better way to start than by calling one another by our actual names? I mean, Harry is your name, is it not?"

"It's not," Harry said automatically, earning another laugh from Malfoy. "Well, I mean, yeah it is," the brunet stammered, fighting a sudden blush. "But…"

"Why am I the only one not allowed to call you by your first name?" Malfoy asked, stepping closer.

"Because…" Harry said breathlessly, feeling dizzy from Malfoy's proximity. "Because you're Malfoy. And I'm Potter. So obviously, you know…that's why."

A soft chuckle reached Harry's ears just as a warm hand reached up to rest against the back of Harry's neck. "But it doesn't have to be that way anymore, Harry," Malfoy murmured, studying Harry's face as he leaned in close enough to make Harry's breath catch. "Rules can be changed. People can change."

"No, they can't," Harry shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving Malfoy's face, his gaze fixed on the other boy's pale lips as a gentle smile curved his mouth. "And no, they don't."

"Yes, they do," the blond said softly, reaching his other hand up to tangle in Harry's hair, sending a shiver of anticipation through him at just how goddamn good it felt to have Malfoy's fingers comb through the strands. He closed his eyes at the feeling of Malfoy's fingernails raking over his scalp, deciding that maybe Malfoy couldn't be _all_ evil; not when his hands felt so surprisingly good on Harry. When he opened them again, Malfoy was watching him with a smile. "You like this, don't you? My hand in your hair like this, I mean."

Harry desperately wanted to deny it, wanted nothing more than to inform Malfoy that he most certainly did _not_ like it before punching him in the face and storming from the room and then never looking in the other boy's direction ever again.

But he couldn't.

Harry nodded his head reluctantly, hesitation slowing his every move. Fuck, why wasn't he pushing Malfoy away and storming from the room? Why was he standing there admitting to things he didn't want to admit to and did not even want to acknowledge?

"I'll keep doing it then," Malfoy whispered, and Harry could feel the smile on the other boy's face as he bent forward enough to press his lips to Harry's own, who found himself returning the kiss without ever actually telling his mouth to do anything. Stupid disobedient mouth.

"Harry, mmm," Malfoy sighed, and Harry felt a smoldering heat ignite somewhere in his gut at the breathless sound of the other boy's voice.

_Oh, fuck it_ , Harry thought vehemently, deciding that if Malfoy was going to cheat by moaning Harry's own bloody name like that instead of fighting fair by sticking to the well-known and clearly-established surnames rule that Harry had been rightly sticking to since its invention, then Harry may as well also get something out of it.

With a groan, his arms shot up to wrap around Malfoy's waist, clinging to him like a safety ring as he returned every one of Malfoy's deep kisses. The kisses began to grow fevered and intense, and Harry felt the smoldering in his gut beginning to spread throughout his entire body, setting every nerve ending on fire.

A moan escaped Malfoy as he began to back Harry up, the two of them stumbling along together until they had found the nearest wall and Harry's back was pressed up against it. Malfoy tore his mouth away from Harry's to suck a trail of kisses down his throat, making Harry pant and squirm. _Oh, god_.

"Fuck, Harry," Malfoy gasped, hands roaming over every inch of Harry's torso as he captured his mouth in another deep kiss. "Fuck, I want you, Harry, so much, you have no idea!"

Harry wanted to disagree, thinking that he might have a very good idea, actually, based on the way that Malfoy was currently attempting to devour him through a kiss, but Harry's mouth was far too preoccupied to argue. And the next words from Malfoy effectively made Harry forget everything the blond had already said, snatching the air from his lungs and the sanity straight from his head.

"Let me suck you, Harry," Malfoy whispered, trailing one hand down Harry's chest and stomach to press down on Harry's tenting trousers, making him inhale sharply in surprise.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, leaning his head back against the wall, something Malfoy seemed to take as encouragement. He squeezed Harry once more before his fingers began to fumble with the fastenings to Harry's jeans. The sound of his zipper being pulled down snapped Harry back into himself and he automatically reached down to halt Malfoy's attempts at undressing him. "What? No, Malfoy, wait!"

"What is it?" Malfoy panted, still pressing kisses to Harry's throat. "What's wrong?"

Steeling himself for the unwanted separation of his body from Malfoy's, Harry gripped his upper arms and pushed the blond away from himself.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Malfoy asked, sounding confused and hurt and making Harry want to pull him back into his embrace for unexpected—and completely unexplainable—reasons.

But he didn't.

"I can't—we can't," he shook his head. "This is all just—too much. I'm still not even sure what's really going on here! It's just too much too fast, Malfoy."

"You say that like we're strangers," Malfoy scoffed. "You do realize that we've known each other for years, yes?"

"No, we haven't," Harry's eyes narrowed. "We _are_ strangers, you said it yourself. Isn't that the point of the whole first-names-fresh-start thing you were talking about? I've known Malfoy for years, not Draco. And you've known Potter, not Harry. We don't know one another, Malfoy. I still don't even know what any of this means yet, so we just…can't rush into anything. Not until we both feel more certain about things, at least. I mean, I'm still struggling to come to terms with the idea that you might not actually hate me anymore! That idea sort of overturned my entire world just a bit, and anything else on top of that is just…I dunno, too much to comprehend at the moment. I think we both just need some time to actually think about this a bit more, yeah?"

Malfoy wrenched himself free from Harry's grasp to cross his arms over his chest with a huff. "Why in the name of Merlin did I ever have to fall for a Gryffindor with the most aggravating code of ethics I've ever seen in a person? What happened to that impulsive Gryffindor rashness you lot are supposed to be known for? Aren't Gryffindors supposed to do first and think later? You're disgracing your entire House right now with your annoying and irritating thoughtfulness, you know. Are you always such a goddamn overly-thoughtful gentleman, Potter?"

"I thought I was Harry now?" Harry grinned, shaking his head in amusement at Draco's tantrum and somehow adorable pouting.

"Not when you're stopping me from getting off," the blond muttered.

The smile instantly vanished from Harry's face. "Is that all there is to this?" he asked coldly, raising one eyebrow.

At the question, Draco shook his head, looking contrite. "No, of course not, Harry," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything like that, like I'm only doing this for sex or something. It's just…" he took a deep breath, dropping his gaze down to the floor, "I feel like I've wanted you for my entire life, practically, and it's not easy to be so close and yet still so far away from actually getting you."

At the unexpected admission, Harry felt his body go numb with shock. Stumbling backward, his legs hit the same table he had left the Invisibility Cloak on and Harry gratefully sank down into a seated position atop its surface, unsure how to respond to what Malfoy had just confessed. Harry wasn't even sure what he felt about it yet, let alone what words to say to such an admission!

"Malfoy…" he began wearily, pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table next to him, pressing the heels of both hands into his eyes as he focused on keeping his breathing steady. "Fuck, Malfoy, that's the exact reason we can't rush into anything! I have absolutely no idea how to take any of what you've been telling me, I honestly don't! It just completely goes against everything in this world I believed and I'm sorry, but it might take me some time to be able to accept it as reality. I mean, I have to first figure out a way for this to even start making sense to me."

A soft sigh met his ears, and he lowered his hands from his eyes to glance at Malfoy, who stood several feet away, appearing uncomfortable and rubbing his arms as though cold. "I understand, Harry," he said quietly. "I can give you time to wrap your head around everything if that's what you need. But…just…" he hesitated, sounding as though he was debating finishing whatever he was trying to say.

"Just what?" Harry prodded, watching as Malfoy's cheeks darkened in embarrassment.

"Just…tell me that this isn't just your way of, I don't know, trying to get rid of me or letting me down gently or something because you changed your mind?"

Harry couldn't help but snort at the question. "Malfoy, I don't even know what my mind is right now, that's my whole point." Malfoy looked discouraged at that, folding in on himself, and Harry hated the sight. "But if I knew for sure that I didn't want to have anything to do with you, I'd definitely have let you know by now, I really don't think I'd be subtle about it. When have either of us ever been subtle with one another, hmm?"

"True, I suppose," Malfoy allowed, a small smile lighting his face.

"So," Harry continued, sliding his glasses back on, "I promise that I will think about everything you've told me, like seriously think every single word over, if you promise to give me the time to do that, all right?"

"All right, Harry," Malfoy sighed. "Take the time, think it all through."

"Thank you," Harry said softly, hopping off the desk and folding the Invisibility Cloak over one arm. "We'll talk again soon then, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded without a word, eyes locked on the floor, and Harry wasn't sure what expression it was he saw on Malfoy's face, but he knew he didn't like it. Striding forward, he slid one finger under Malfoy's chin and tilted it up enough to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Goodnight then, Malfoy," he murmured, unable to resist stealing just one more kiss before stepping away.

"Goodnight, Harry," Malfoy said quietly as Harry strode to the door, mind whirling.

He had a lot to think about.

oOo

"What are you thinking about?" Ron's loud voice startled Harry, pulling the brunet from the deep well of concentration he was attempting to channel into his Very Serious and Important Thinking, the exact same Very Serious and Important Thinking he had just been interrupted right in the middle of. Did Ron not see how busy Harry was?

"Things," Harry answered listlessly, turning back to stare up at the ceiling of the boys' dorm room. He was lying on his back on his mattress, attempting to mentally re-sort everything he thought he had known about his life.

"You've been up here for hours." Ron's voice came closer as he approached Harry's bed, falling in a graceless heap onto his own mattress and eyeing Harry with a frown. "You weren't at dinner. Did you not eat?"

"I went to the kitchens earlier," Harry responded, still sounding and feeling numb. "I didn't feel like eating in the Great Hall."

"Harry, what's going on with you?" Ron sounded concerned as he peered closely at Harry's face. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Harry sighed, wondering in the next second why he would even bother telling such an obvious lie.

"Yeah, clearly nothing," Ron said sarcastically, "you're just sunshine and roses up here, aren't you?"

"Yep," Harry agreed, figuring he had already told Ron such a blatant lie that he may as well tell another.

"Yep," Ron shook his head. "Just a big old box of rainbows you are. A giant sock full of happy kittens."

"Exactly. Kittens and socks, that's me."

"I'll get Hermione if I have to," Ron threatened, fixing him with a stern look that reminded Harry of Molly's very best 'don't talk back to your mother' face, making Harry frown at the sight. Ron couldn't give him that face, he wasn't Harry's mother. Harry's own mother didn't even get to give him that face, on account of her not actually being around to be able to give it. And if she couldn't give it, nobody else could give it to Harry either.

Harry shot him a two-finger salute in response.

"Okay, you bloody asked for it then." Ron climbed to his feet as he spoke and strode quickly from the room. As the door clicked shut behind him, Harry considered escaping before they got back but decided against it; he didn't really feel like moving.

Two minutes of peaceful calm passed, and Harry tried to enjoy the silence as much as he could before his friends came back in and forced him to vomit up every single confession that had been weighing on him so heavily the last two days. Two days since Harry and Malfoy had last spoken in the tower, and he still had no idea what to make of any of it; his mind was no less of a muddled mess than it had been that night.

Christ, though, it had somehow made more sense to Harry to find out that he had had a piece of Voldemort's soul living inside him for most of his life than it did to find out that Malfoy might just fancy him.

How could Malfoy fancy him? Harry's brain was still screaming how impossible and unlikely such a thing really was—how could Harry make himself accept something in such flagrant opposition of every single law of nature and the universe? Malfoy was going against the bloody laws of nature by telling the brunet such a thing, and Harry didn't know how to accept anything that went against the laws of nature.

Well, other than magic, he supposed. And ghosts. And homework.

He was jerked from his thoughts once more by the sound of the door opening, and he half-turned his head in time to see a mass of brown curls rush into the room, gasping as she flew to his bed.

"Harry!" Hermione sounded worried enough to startle Harry into sitting up. Had something happened? "Are you all right? Ron told me there was something really wrong with you! He said something about finding you lying on your mattress half dead and unable to move! And he said that everything you were saying to him was absolute gibberish! Did someone manage to slip you a badly-brewed potion? Or hit you with some sort of curse?"

Harry sat up more fully, raising one eyebrow at Hermione as he waited for her to realize that he still had the working use of all his limbs.

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened before narrowing dangerously. "What the hell is the matter with him?" she gritted out, crossing her arms and dropping down onto Ron's bed with an angry huff.

Loud laughter caught their attention, and they turned as one to find Ron standing in the doorway, grinning. "I thought that might get you up here faster."

"I was really worried!" Hermione glared. "Don't ever do that again, I thought Harry was really injured!"

_Just my peace of mind_ , he thought wryly, shaking his head to himself.

"Eh, I may have overdramatized it just a bit," Ron shrugged, crossing the room to sit next to Hermione on his bed, "but there really is something wrong with him, and everything he was saying may as well have been gibberish for all the sense it was making. And he wouldn't tell me what it's about, so that's where you come in, Hermione." He smiled brightly at her. "You're my cavalry. And you're way better at dealing with all the emotional bollocksy-type stuff, so I figured you would really be the best choice for getting Harry to admit to whatever it is that has him moping around up here like some sort of soulless, dead-eyed Inferius."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look before turning back to Ron. "Um," Hermione began, "an Inferius already _is_ soulless and dead-eyed, Ron. They're nothing more than walking corpses, you should know this, we studied them in sixth year."

"Yeah, well," Ron rolled his eyes, " _especially_ soulless and _extra_ dead-eyed, then. I mean, look at him, Hermione! Is that not the face of a living, breathing corpse?"

"Cheers," Harry said dryly, flopping back down on his mattress and staring up at the ceiling once more.

"Oh, you only deny it 'cos you're not the one actually looking at yourself right now," Ron scoffed. "But if you were, even you would have to admit that you're a bit of a talking Inferius at the moment, mate. If Inferi were near-sighted, of course."

The statement made Harry's lips twitch despite himself. "You're the weird one for hanging out with an Inferius then, not me for being one."

"You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better, Harry."

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione interrupted before Harry could come up with a retort—a retort he had no doubt would have gone down in the history books as the wittiest and most scathing retort ever uttered. _Saved by his girlfriend_ , Harry thought, narrowing his eyes at Ron, who grinned back as though he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.

"What makes the two of you so certain there's something going on?" Harry mumbled, knowing there was no real lie he could tell about how he was feeling that they would not immediately see through.

"Um, maybe because we have eyeballs?"

Harry shot a half-hearted glare at Ron in response.

"Talk to us, Harry," Hermione said quietly, "we just want to help."

Harry was silent for several moments. "I don't know if I even can," he finally said, speaking in a low voice. "I don't even understand any of it myself. It just…" he sighed heavily, tugging at the ends of his hair in frustration. "I can't even get it to make sense in my mind, I doubt I'd be able to put it into words."

"Let us decide if it makes sense or not," said Hermione, and Harry wondered if it really would help to talk about everything that had happened.

"Well…" he began, sitting up slowly and hesitating as he wondered how to put his confusion into words. "Have either of you…ever been attracted to someone you thought you hated? Used to hate. I really did hate them. Only now I'm not sure at all how I feel about them. How can you just get over that kind of intense hatred? Like the kind that you've had for _years_ , even if you really might be attracted to them now? Only, what if you never knew you were? What if you were really attracted to them the entire time you were hating them, but you never even knew it? Is that even possible? Would that still even count if you're not even aware of it? Can you really be attracted to someone you genuinely hate? Or does that attraction automatically mean that maybe you always hated them less than you thought you always did? Or would it maybe make you hate them even more _because_ you're attracted to them? Maybe you actually only hated them so much because of this subconscious underlying attraction that you didn't even know about. And maybe the _both_ of you hated each other for this attraction, which is just bloody weird all by itself. But now maybe one of you wants to act on it but the other one isn't really sure. I mean, is something like a relationship even _possible_ with someone you once hated more than almost every single person you've ever met in your entire life? And they say it's not just about shagging and that their feelings are genuine, but how do you really know that for sure? Can you ever truly trust someone you once loathed? Someone who once actively _tried_ to make your life hard and make you feel like shit all the time? But does any of that really even matter if kissing them _now_ makes you feel like…" Harry trailed off before fixing Ron and Hermione with a desperate look. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Both of them stared at Harry, mouths parted in surprise. Ron turned to give Hermione a bemused look. "Well, he was right, Hermione. That made absolutely no sense."

"I told you it wouldn't," Harry muttered, collapsing back onto the mattress.

"Can you at least tell us who you're talking about?" Hermione wondered, sounding confused. "I think it might make more sense if we knew."

"That's the most confusing part of all of it, though, is the name," Harry admitted, closing his eyes with a grimace. "I mean, have either of you ever been attracted to someone you hate?"

"Are you forgetting about Lavender?" Ron asked sarcastically, and Harry felt his lips twitch.

"We've been trying to forget about Lavender since sixth year," he grinned, opening his eyes just in time to catch Hermione's exasperated head shake. "And besides," Harry continued, "that's different. I mean, you didn't hate her before you started dating, did you? It was only after she was already your girlfriend that she showed everyone her true colors as a needy possessive lunatic who clung to you like a bloody Grindylow."

"Yeah," Ron laughed, rubbing his neck sheepishly, "that about sums up my first girlfriend. Thank god I got away from that one and into a relationship I actually enjoy, yeah?"

"Yes," Hermione smirked at him, "thank god for that, Won-Won."

Harry burst out laughing, the sound only encouraged by Ron's flushed face. "We're all grateful you got out of that relationship, Won-Won," Harry said, laughing even harder.

"All right," Ron shook his head, attempting to look threatening, "the next person to call me Won-Won—"

"Gets a horrible gold necklace that says 'my sweetheart' on it?" Harry interrupted with a grin. "Didn't we decide that was way more of a punishment than a present?"

"This is what I get from my best mate for trying to save him from turning into a bloody Inferius," Ron lamented, but Harry could see his lips twitching despite his red cheeks. "Ridiculed about a time in my life I hoped we had all forgotten."

"You're the one that brought her up," Hermione pointed out, laughing at Ron's embarrassment.

"Yeah, but I was trying to connect to what Harry was saying! He's the one with the issues here, not me!"

"At least Lavender was never one of my issues," Harry said lightly, still grinning.

"Must we continue with this?" Ron grumbled. "Merlin's balls already, we were talking about _you,_ Harry, and _your_ problems. Can we get back to this mystery girl you want to hate-shag?"

"What about you, Hermione?" Harry turned to her, ignoring the incorrect use of 'girl' in Ron's question. "Have you ever hated someone and been attracted to them at the same time?"

"Well, there were times when I really did hate Ron but still found him attractive," she smiled softly, bumping her shoulder into his, "but we've been recently forbidden from mentioning those times he so clearly wants forgotten, when he was dating the person we've all recently been forbidden from naming."

Ron bumped her shoulder back with a shake of his head and a grin.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, watching their easy exchange with one another and feeling his stomach tighten in envy, "but that's still different. You already fancied Ron before you hated him, and you went from being friends to not speaking. I'm talking about _hating_ someone, practically from the very first moment you met them, and then finding out that maybe they're an actual person with actual real feelings and maybe some of those actual feelings are for you and maybe you might actually be sort of attracted to them too, even if you wouldn't necessarily describe it as having _feelings_ for them, because they really have been an absolute sodding dickhead wanker to you the entire time you've known them, and maybe they still are but you just don't know what to believe anymore because the entire situation is the most confusing situation you've ever been in!"

"Harry," Ron said slowly, and Harry immediately tensed at the cautious tone in Ron's voice. "You're not talking about a girl, are you?" Harry felt himself grimace as Ron continued. "There's only one person in this entire school that you've ever felt that way about…and he is definitely not a girl."

"No," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the expressions on either of their faces, "he's not."

Nobody said a word, the silence stretching into minutes as Harry waited for the disgust and the reprimands to begin.

"How did you," Hermione began, finally breaking the silence and startling Harry into opening his eyes, "how did you, erm, find out that you might be attracted to him?"

"Er, well…" Harry flushed, sitting up on the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around his legs as he tried to figure out the best way to tell them what had been happening. "He, er…well, he, um, sort of…er, kissed me. A bit." Harry felt his entire upper body turn bright red as he hid his face in his knees, not wanting to see whatever expressions the admission had put on the faces of his friends.

"And, um, how was it?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Harry huffed a laugh. "Fucking weird."

"So, you didn't pull away and punch him in the face?" Ron wondered, sounding confused. "That definitely is weird, I'll give you that."

"No, I…" Harry took a deep breath, mumbling the words into the safety of his knees, hoping Ron and Hermione wouldn't actually hear anything he was saying and wouldn't actually remember any of the conversation and Harry could somehow wake up in a world where none of this mess was happening. "I, er…sortofmaybekissedhimback. Possibly. A bit. Maybe. For barely even a second, probably."

Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything for a long time, and Harry finally risked a glance up to find them staring at one another, seemingly having an entire silent conversation from facial expressions alone.

"I mean, I did push him away!" Harry dropped his gaze back down to his knees. "Eventually. It just sort of…took a minute for me to do it. And then he cornered me again the next morning and pretty much threw himself at me _again_ , and then told me he'd explain everything if I met with him later that night. So, I went and met up with him and he was saying all these things that I'm honestly not sure if I even believe, about how he kissed me because he's wanted to forever and that he's wanted me for bloody _years_ , and he was calling me by my first name and telling me he wants us to start everything over, and then…he kissed me again. And…I don't know, I kissed back _again_ because apparently, I'm a bloody idiot who gets off on confusion. But, god, he's just so fucking… _hot_ , you know? Like in a really stuck-up, arrogant, posh wanker sort of way that shouldn't be attractive but it actually sort of is on him, and I don't think I really even realized how hot I think he is until he started throwing himself at me every time I turn a bloody corner! And then—" Harry suddenly clamped his lips shut as a fierce blush threatened to incinerate him whole. No, he drew the line at telling them what Malfoy had said to him, had whispered right against Harry's kiss-swollen lips— _let me suck you, Harry_.

Merlin. Just the thought of it made Harry shiver.

Surely that couldn't be a joke, could it? Who the hell sucked someone's cock for a bloody _joke?_ Malfoy never did anything he didn't want to do; if he had offered to suck Harry off, then it must have been because he actually wanted to, right?

_Unless sucking someone's cock can somehow be used in an evil plot I've yet to figure out, and I almost played right into his evil hands by letting him blow me,_ Harry thought to himself distractedly, banishing the strange thought as he glanced over to find both Ron and Hermione staring at him with wide eyes.

"I just don't know what any of it means," Harry said quietly, dropping his gaze back to his knees. "I don't know what to believe and I don't even know how I really feel about any of it. And he doesn't even seem confused at all! I'm bloody confused enough for the both of us and he's just so goddamn _calm_ about it all, as if it somehow just makes so much sense to the prat! I mean, honestly, what part of any of this makes the slightest bit of sense to either of you?!"

"Well," Hermione began hesitantly, and Harry's head snapped up in response. Well, what? "I mean, you two have always had…a very intense sort of chemistry, you know? There was always a very impassioned energy between the both of you. And you spent an entire year of school following him around, and…"

"And what?" Harry asked suspiciously, wondering just what else Hermione was adding to the nonsensical list of things that somehow made sense in this implausible, backwards world they were living in. It was a list that Harry had been convinced did not exist, in either this backwards world or in any other kind of world.

"Well," she blushed slightly, "don't you remember the Yule Ball?"

"'Course I do," he said, feeling confused. "I was there." What did the Yule Ball have to do with anything?

"I guess you weren't even aware of it then," Hermione said quietly to herself with a rueful smile.

"Aware of _what?"_

"The way you stared at him," she stated bluntly, studying Harry's face.

"Stared at who?" he muttered in a sulky voice, feeling his stomach drop.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Harry, it doesn't suit you," Hermione said impatiently. "You _know_ who."

Harry decided to stick with playing dumb; it was a brilliant plan and could surely never fail him. "I never stared at Voldemort at the Yule Ball!"

At that, Ron snorted loudly.

"All right, Harry," Hermione shook her head, "keep denying it to yourself if you like. But you _did_ stare at him, and I _know_ you know who."

"But Voldemort wasn't even _at_ the Yule Ball, Hermione," Ron grinned, and Harry was glad to see that he didn't seem angry or upset about Harry's splattered mess of revelations.

She rolled her eyes at the redhead. "Oh, for god's sake, the both of you. _I'm_ trying to take this seriously!"

"What do you think I should do?" The question was asked in a tiny voice, cutting off whatever Ron had been opening his mouth to respond with.

Hermione and Ron exchanged another glance. "I don't really think either of us can tell you what to do, Harry," she said softly, coming to sit next to him on his bed. "I think you have to figure out your own feelings for yourself in this kind of situation. I've certainly never been in a situation such as this and I honestly can't even imagine the sort of confusion you must be dealing with. But…I don't know, maybe just try asking yourself if the way he makes you feel now is strong enough to make you want to move on from the way you used to feel toward him in the past. Would you rather continue to hold onto the anger and the hatred you once had for him, or would you rather allow yourself the opportunity to find out whether the two of you really might have something between you?"

"Why aren't the two of you more upset about this?" Harry mumbled, feeling a warm rush of gratitude sweep through him at the fact that he had someone such as Hermione in his life.

"Well," Ron shrugged, "you sort of seem upset enough for all of us, to be honest, so I really don't see the point in adding to it. And I know he's always been a stupid fucking arrogant tosser knobhead wank-stained vicious twat, probably the twattiest twat in the entire bloody book of twats, if I'm honest, but that was back before the war really started, you know? He can't get away with being who he was before, just some loud outspoken supremacist constantly going on and on about how superior purebloods are—he'd get torn apart for it in a second if he tried any of that shit now. And he really has nothing to feel superior about anymore, since all his pride was wrapped up in his blood status and his wanker dad and his wanker dad's gold, but he doesn't really have any of that anymore, does he? His dad's serving a life sentence in Azkaban, and I heard from _my_ dad that most of their possessions were sold to pay war reparations and legal fees, and the entire nation looks down on him now as nothing but a Death Eater, so he really has no status of any kind anymore at all.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Ron continued, holding up a hand at Harry and Hermione's surprised faces, "I still don't like the git and I don't know if I ever actually will 'cos he's still a git and he'll always be a git, even if he does end up becoming the future Mrs Potter." Harry felt himself blush at that and Ron grinned. "And I know I would feel a fuck of a lot different about him if his side had won the war—even though all of us would most likely be dead by now if that were the case—but, I mean, he lost, didn't he?" Ron's grin widened. "And you lot know me, I'm too damn kind-hearted to be anything but a gracious winner in the face of his defeat."

By the time Ron finished speaking, Harry's mouth was hanging open in shock. Did Ron really just say all of that…and did he really genuinely mean it? Harry and Hermione slowly turned to face one another, exchanging looks of surprise before Hermione suddenly left Harry's mattress and went to sit by Ron, seizing his face between both hands to pull him forward into a hard kiss.

"Remember what I said about you having the emotional range of a teaspoon and being born without a single ounce of tact and being less mature than most first-years?" Hermione asked him quietly, waiting until he nodded. "Well, I take it all back, Ronald. I was honestly not expecting that from you." She kissed him again and he pulled back with a wide grin.

"Learn from this then and don't underestimate me next time. I can be mature too, you know," he told her, "you're not the only one out of the three of us capable of maturity."

"Uh, speak for yourself," Harry cut in, "I am _definitely_ more mature than you! You're practically a toddler compared to me! Hermione, tell him how mature I am."

"Um, did you not hear Hermione just praise my legendary maturity right in front of your face?" Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I think I already won, mate. Plus, you're the one who was talking about still hating Malfoy and _I'm_ the one who just gave a lovely speech about letting things go and moving on from the past and having grace in victory and all that sentimental rubbishy rot. Right, Hermione?" he turned to face his girlfriend. "Tell _him_ how much more mature _I_ am."

"Oh, good lord, I take it all back," Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "Congratulations, you're both back to being just as equally immature."

"Well, now look what you did, Harry!" Ron glared as he fought twitching lips. "It's taken me over seven years to finally get her to acknowledge me as a mature, manly adult, and you ruin it within the first sodding minute!"

"I don't think I ever actually said the word 'manly'," Hermione chuckled, laughing harder at the offended look Ron gave her.

"You don't need to, it's already implied in everything you say."

"More like incorrectly inferred in everything you hear."

"Can you two save the gross flirty banter for when I'm not here?" Harry interrupted, already knowing such a conversation would end in a round of heated snogging between the two of them if allowed to run its sickening course. "'Cos, you know, _urgh_. Not all of us want to continue being traumatized any more than we already have been."

"Planning on saving all _your_ gross flirty banter for Malfoy, then?" Ron grinned, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulling her into his side.

"Yep, that's exactly what I was planning," Harry rolled his eyes, "'cos Malfoy and I are all about the flirty banter, definitely. We can't get enough of it."

"I know," Ron rolled his eyes right back at Harry. "I've gone to school with the both of you for the past seven years."

"Piss off," Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, _you_ piss off," Ron shot back with a grin. "Hermione and I have more flirty banter to exchange, and you just said you don't want to hear it, so..."

"I was fucking here first, you prat!"

"All right," Ron shrugged, "stay and listen to it then if you really want."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Harry groaned, already climbing to his feet.

"Not even he can help you now, Harry," Ron said gravely. "Not now that you fancy Malfoy."

"And don't I fucking know it," Harry chuckled, opening his trunk to grab the Cloak and the Map and shooting Ron a final two-finger salute before leaving the room, wondering where he wanted to go now that he was officially banished from his dorm for who knew how long.

His heart started to pound as a sudden idea sprang to mind. Cautiously, he exited the portrait hole and pulled the map from his bag, heart hammering faster and faster the more he scanned it, wondering where the blond was…he smiled as he finally spotted Malfoy's dot, all alone in the boathouse.

_Perfect._

oOo

The boathouse was dark. The only illumination was the moonlight reflecting off the still surface of the black lake spread before him, making Harry feel as though he was staring into two different night skies, one above him and one below, surrounding him in a cage of stars. Small ripples would occasionally shatter the silver face of the moon's reflection, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what was causing them. The Giant Squid? Grindylows? A mermaid? Harry supposed it made no difference.

Taking a deep breath and wondering for the hundredth time in the last five minutes if he had lost his bloody mind, Harry entered the building and stared around, seeing nothing. All he could hear was the gentle lap of water against the wet rocks beneath his feet and a soft creak of wood from the single boat tied up and left floating on the water.

"Malfoy?" Harry called quietly, glancing around himself.

"Harry?" a voice said in surprise, and Harry saw a sudden dark shape sit up in the boat still gently bobbing up and down. "What are you doing here?"

"Er, looking for you, actually," Harry admitted, feeling himself blush, and he was grateful for the dim light.

Without a word, Malfoy scrambled from the boat and rushed to where Harry stood, the brunet feeling awkward and embarrassed. Why _had_ he shown up? He wasn't even sure. What was he expecting to happen?

"Did you really come to find me?" Malfoy breathed, staring at him in wonder, and all Harry could do was nod in response. "Why?"

"Er, well…" he shrugged, hoping Malfoy could not see the fierce blush Harry could feel burning his cheeks, threatening to incinerate his entire head in flames. "I mean, I said we would talk later, yeah? And you've been decent at keeping your distance and giving me time to think"—not counting the searing, intense looks Malfoy had been shooting at Harry all throughout the past two days—"and I have been. Thinking about it, I mean. About—about you and me. And I figure, you know, maybe it's time we talked, yeah?"

"Okay," Malfoy whispered, and even in the darkness, Harry could see the naked hope on his face. It sent a hot swooping sensation through Harry's stomach at the sight.

Reaching out for his hand, Malfoy slipped his fingers through Harry's and led him back to the boat the blond had been sitting in, helping Harry keep his balance as he climbed into it, the Slytherin stepping in much more gracefully than Harry had managed. Harry settled down as best he could without rocking the wide canoe too much, smiling at the way Malfoy had already Transfigured the bottom of the boat into a flat comfortable surface to lay on.

But now that they were sitting so close, facing each other with no walls or Invisibility Cloaks to hide behind, Harry did not know what to say. He gazed down instead, over the side of the canoe at the rippling black water below them, feeling himself slowly start to relax at the comforting bobbing motions of the boat.

"What did you want to speak to me about, Harry?" Malfoy whispered, appearing almost afraid that Harry would bolt if he spoke too loudly. As he said Harry's name, Malfoy reached out one hand to place atop Harry's knee, as though unable to stop himself from touching the brunet.

"About…" Harry swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the confusing, twisting sensation that rolled through his insides at the feel of those fingers stroking his knee lightly, "about us. You know—you and me. And…everything," he finished weakly, waving a hand as though that in any way explained what he meant by 'everything'.

"What about you and me?" Malfoy's voice was even quieter, barely louder than the cold breeze slipping past them, and at Harry's shiver, Malfoy pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm over the two of them, surprising Harry at his consideration.

"I—I've been thinking…" Harry began uncertainly, wondering how on earth he could ever manage to phrase his horribly confusing feelings into actual words he could actually say to another human being. _I've been thinking about you nonstop and think I might actually fancy you and want to maybe see how you felt about giving us an actual real chance, and I would also now please like the blowjob I stupidly turned down the last time we saw each other when you offered to suck me off and I said no like an idiot._

No, there was simply no chance in hell Harry was ever going to saying something like that.

"Yes?" Malfoy prompted, shifting a fraction closer.

"Well, I-I've been thinking…and…" If it wouldn't come off as being strange, Harry would've smacked himself in the trachea for the way his stupid throat seemed so unwilling to get actual sentences or any sort of useful words up into his mouth. Why were useful words always so hard to find when Harry needed them? How had every single word in the English language somehow deserted him in his hour of need?

_Well, fuck it then,_ Harry thought with determination. If he could not find the right words, then maybe he wouldn't use any words at all.

Feeling only slightly close to a heart attack from the panic and nerves surging through him, Harry reached trembling fingers up to cup Malfoy's jaw between two hands, allowing his eyes to slide closed as he bent forward enough to kiss the blond right on the mouth, and at the contact, Malfoy made a soft noise of surprise, freezing for half a second in shock before his entire body melted into Harry. He released a shaky moan into Harry's mouth as Harry deepened the kiss, happy to find that the electricity between them had not vanished; sparks seemed to zip up and down Harry's spine, race through his blood, dance across his skin.

How was it possible that _Malfoy,_ of all people, was the only one so far able to make Harry feel like _this_? He made Harry feel alive, he made him feel electric, like he was somehow pouring lightning into Harry's mouth and down his throat through every scorching kiss they exchanged, pumping heat and electricity directly into his heart, searing through his veins and heating even his bones. Malfoy moaned again, raking his fingers through Harry's hair and gripping tight, using his hold to pull Harry into a harder kiss, an even more intense press of lips and wet, twining tongues, the sensations all swirling together until Harry was feeling nearly dizzy from how much he wanted Malfoy.

As if Malfoy could read his mind, he began to press against Harry, encouraging him to lay down on the Transfigured floor of the boat. Harry clutched Malfoy tightly to himself, pulling the blond down on top of him and smiling in approval at the new position.

"Oh, god, Harry," Malfoy whispered, stroking his face in awe, "I can't believe this is really happening, I feel like I've been waiting for it for so long."

"I can't believe it either," Harry agreed, smiling in disbelief against Malfoy's mouth as he bent down to press his lips to Harry's own once more.

"God, I want you so much, Harry," Malfoy panted, rocking his hips down against Harry's own and groaning. "God, please say you'll let me suck you off this time!"

"I definitely won't stop you," Harry whispered, shivering at the look in Malfoy's eyes, almost as though he didn't want to swallow just Harry's cock, but his body and his entire being, maybe even his soul, as well.

Without needing any further encouragement, Malfoy began to slide his hands under the fabric of Harry's baggy t-shirt, dragging his palms across every inch of warm flesh they could find, and Harry shivered again at the feeling. The shirt was shoved up to expose Harry's torso, and Malfoy stared down at Harry's bare chest in wonder before suddenly ducking his head and beginning to suck kisses across Harry's chest and down his stomach—hot, wet kisses that made Harry tremble and moan. Every sound that escaped Harry's lips seemed to encourage Malfoy even more, and Harry felt himself tense in anticipation as Malfoy's fingers finally reached the fastenings to his worn denims and quickly tugged them open, as though scared Harry was about to change his mind again.

But stopping was the furthest thing from Harry's mind at that moment. Malfoy tugged Harry's jeans and pants down far enough to free his cock, already stiff and leaking in anticipation of Malfoy's touch. Malfoy spent several minutes stroking it lightly, the touch growing firmer and more confident as he continued.

"Harry," he whispered, gaze flicking up to meet Harry's own, and Harry felt himself pulse at the look of pure hunger on Malfoy's face, the sight of scorching lust pouring from his eyes. Without warning, he ducked his head and sucked half of Harry's cock into his mouth, startling Harry and making him cry out wordlessly.

At the sound, Malfoy sucked even harder, pulling back to the tip and swirling his tongue around the head.

"Oh, god, _Malfoy_ ," Harry moaned, fists clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides.

Malfoy slowly began to lower his head, flattening his tongue along the underside of Harry's shaft and breathing deeply through his nose as he took as much of Harry in as he could, holding the position as long as he could before pulling back to the tip with a hard suck. He licked around the head several more times, reaching out to grasp the base of Harry's cock with one hand and stroking lightly as he began to bob his head up and down, building a steady tempo, and Harry heard himself whimper as he fought the urge to thrust up fully into the tight, wet heat.

Oh, god, Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could last, and it felt like it had only just started.

"Malfoy," he panted, groaning as Malfoy hummed. "Malfoy, _fuck_ , I'm so fucking close, oh my god!"

Malfoy hummed again, drawing it out and making Harry's body tense as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. Throwing his head back, Harry came with a sharp breathy cry, feeling Malfoy swallowing around him, the brunet shuddering at the feeling.

Finally, Malfoy pulled back with a strange expression, one that seemed to be an odd combination of sadness, fear, and resignation. The look confused Harry and he knew that he did not like it. Tucking himself away and sitting up, Harry reached out to stroke Draco's cheek with his thumb, pulling him forward into a gentle kiss.

Harry kissed him for several wonderful moments before grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping them without warning, grinning as he loomed over Malfoy with a feral smile, liking the sight of Malfoy on his back beneath him.

"Harry," Malfoy whispered, sounding surprised, and Harry liked that he had surprised him.

"I think you deserve a turn now too, don't you?" Harry smirked, pulling Malfoy's shirt free from his trousers and fumbling with the buttons, getting half of them undone before giving up and simply pushing the fabric up as high as it could go before dropping down to press a wet kiss to the middle of Malfoy's chest. He moaned as Harry licked a long stripe down the muscled bumps of his stomach and back up, staring at Malfoy's nipples for half a second in indecision before mentally shrugging to himself and taking one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nub and breathing hotly over the wet skin before tugging at it with his teeth.

Beneath him, Malfoy squirmed and thrashed, panting wildly. "Oh, god, Harry, please touch me, _please!_ I'm going to come if you keep this up!"

"Really?" Harry pulled back to eye him with a pleased expression, one that Malfoy did not return. "Oh, fine," Harry sighed with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to Malfoy's lips before shifting low enough to get his trousers open, doing what he had done for Harry and pulling them down only just far enough to free his cock. He offered Malfoy a nervous smile before taking a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a brave Gryffindor and was certainly more than capable of handling another boy's erect penis and that it would certainly be no more nerve-wracking than battling the forces of darkness had been. Harry was no stranger to cocks. After all, he had been the proud—more or less—owner of one for eighteen whole years.

Without another thought, Harry reached out to grasp the base and guide the tip into his mouth, startling at the loud gasp Malfoy made as he arched his back. Smirking to himself, Harry sucked at the very tip and dipped his tongue into the slit, trying to remember everything that Ginny had ever done to him that had felt good. He pulled away to give the shaft a few quick strokes before sliding it back into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he ducked his head lower and lower, wanting to see how much he could take in before his gag reflex won out, and wondering if he would be able to defeat his gag reflex his very first time, like the true Gryffindor champion he had always been told he was.

Unfortunately, his gag reflex won, making Harry have to reevaluate everything he had been hoping about Gryffindor willpower being strong enough to trump any obstacle it encountered, even something as simple and annoying as his own gag reflex. His willpower could defeat Voldemort, but not his own sodding gag reflex? Stupid gag reflex, didn't it see that Harry _wanted_ Malfoy's prick to be there?

Pulling back and coughing as inconspicuously as one is able to whilst choking to death and possibly almost dying, _yet again,_ Harry kept one hand on Malfoy while he tried to get his breathing back under control.

"Is this your first time doing this, Harry?" Malfoy asked quietly, and Harry glanced up to see the blond staring at him oddly, in a way that Harry was almost tempted to label as _protective_. Possessive, more likely. Whatever the expression, it made Harry shiver, but not in an unpleasant way.

Swallowing and feeling relieved as his breathing finally calmed down and went back to normal, Harry nodded. "First time with a bloke, yeah."

At the admission, Malfoy's eyes darkened, and Harry felt the cock in his hand twitch. "Christ, Harry, I can't believe I'm really your first bloke. Fuck, you have no idea how fucking hot you are, do you?"

Harry ducked his head as a blush spread across his face. He had been told, quite a lot and by quite a lot of people—well, more like psycho rabid fanatical lunatics—that he was attractive, that he was the most attractive thing they'd ever seen and they wanted nothing more than to be with him, but Harry had never believed any of them. They didn't think _he_ was attractive, they thought his _name_ was attractive, they thought his fame and influence and supposed power was attractive, but not Harry. Never just Harry. The deranged perverts who tried to slip him love potions didn't want to enslave _Harry,_ they wanted to enslave _Harry Potter_ , they wanted the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Boy-Behind-the-Stupid-Title.

But the way Malfoy was staring at him, like Harry was the most important thing in the entire world, the way he had whispered Harry's name earlier and the way he had carded his fingers so gently through Harry's hair…Harry felt like, for the very first time, he might actually be able to believe that somebody found Harry, just Harry, attractive and desirable. Even with Ginny, he had never fully been able to believe her feelings for him, since she had always been a fan before a friend—she had been star struck before they had ever even met; she had fallen in love with his name before she had ever even spoken to him.

But with Malfoy…Harry thought he really might just believe the other boy.

With that new revelation settled and a new determination to blow Malfoy's mind—well, not exactly his _mind,_ but definitely something of his—Harry took him back into his mouth with no warning, deciding he could not ever imagine getting bored of hearing Malfoy's shocked arousal. Malfoy made a high-pitched whimper as he threw his head back sharply, fists clenched in the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt, as though he needed something to grip onto. Harry took him as deep as he could, very aware of his limits this time.

As Malfoy's cries grew more desperate, Harry sped up his movements, pulling his mouth back to the tip and sucking hard at the head. And at that, Malfoy came.

Hot, bitter liquid was suddenly filling Harry's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and making him cough as he tried his best to swallow around his choking, wondering for the second time that night if he might possibly end up being the very first person to die from giving head. God, how fucking embarrassing would that headstone be?

"Sorry," Malfoy panted, lifting one hand to pat Harry weakly on the arm. "I should have warned you I was close."

"No," Harry shrugged, trying to act casual and pretend like his face wasn't on fire with the world's fiercest blush, just as he was trying to pretend that he had not nearly just died giving a blowjob to the super-fit-but-semi-evil prat he had been so sure only days ago that he hated. "I mean, I knew it was going to happen at some point. I just…" his blush deepened, and all he could do was hope that Malfoy's pleasure had been so intense that it had temporarily robbed him of his eyesight and the blond was not currently able to see the embarrassment Harry could feel burning his cheeks like fire, "I just hadn't expected it to be like that."

Malfoy smiled fondly at him, buckling his trousers back into place and sitting up before attempting to smooth his hair back down into the usual slicked-back look he always sported.

"Don't," Harry blurted, startling the both of them.

"Don't what?" Malfoy asked in confusion, pausing as he tried to sweep the hair from his forehead.

"Don't fix it," Harry said softly, feeling another blush sweep over his face. "Your hair, I mean. I—I like it like that. Loose like that."

Malfoy immediately stopped trying to sort out his hair and instead pinned Harry with a serious stare. "You do?"

"Yeah," the brunet shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal to confess to another bloke—one he had spent years actively hating and whom he knew had actively hated him right back—that Harry found him attractive.

"I'll leave it then," Malfoy swallowed, suddenly seeming unsure of himself.

Glancing around, Harry searched for his wand, casting another warming charm over them before pulling Malfoy down to lie side-by-side on the comfortable transfigured floor of the boat they were sat in, feeling it gently rock up and down in the lake as the soft sounds of water slapping against hard rock echoed around the underground harbor. Harry could see a sliver of winter moonlight peeking through the wooden slats of the roof directly above where the two boys lay together, a tiny slice of silver falling down on the two of them.

"I'm glad I came here tonight," he said in a quiet voice, finally breaking the silence.

"So am I," Malfoy turned his head to smile at him. The smile vanished, however, as he turned back to face the ceiling. "Why did you come, Harry?"

"Well," Harry sighed, "I'm not actually a hundred percent sure, but I _think_ I came earlier because some blond bloke sucked me off in the boathouse. I've heard it's not too uncommon for a bloke to come when someone's got his dick in their mouth."

Malfoy snorted, turning to Harry with a grin. "You know what I meant, prat."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, turning away as everything suddenly felt much more serious. Oh god, they were going to have the _conversation_ now, weren't they? The conversation that Harry knew had to happen but had been hoping to somehow magically avoid.

Damn.

"It wasn't…" Malfoy trailed off, sounding unsure, "it wasn't just to…"

"Just to what?"

"Just to…collect on what you had turned down the last time?"

Harry could practically feel Malfoy's blush heating his own skin.

"Do you think I'd still be lying here next to you if that's what it was about? Or that I would have returned the favor?" Harry asked calmly, reaching down to thread his fingers through Malfoy's, the same as Malfoy had done when leading Harry over to the very boat they now lay in.

"But I thought…"

"So did I," Harry shrugged. "I thought a lot. About all of it, and I realized…I don't want to hold onto the past anymore; I don't want to hold onto a version of you that may not even exist anymore. And I thought about the fact that…I want to actually find out if he _does_ still exist; I want to find out how much you've changed, how much we've both changed. I want to find out…" his words trailed off into silence as sudden embarrassment threatened to consume him whole.

"Find out what?" Malfoy breathed, staring at Harry with the most intense pair of eyes Harry had ever had gaze at him.

And under the overwhelming power of those eyes, Harry found himself blurting out what he had initially been too embarrassed to say. "I want to find out why you make me feel like this, Draco," Harry whispered, and he heard Malfoy's breath catch at Harry's use of his given name. "I want to find out why you're the only person who's ever made me feel so…"

"So what?" Malfoy whispered, but Harry was not sure if he had an answer for that in actual words.

So he responded in the only way he could and tugged Malfoy forward to meet him in a kiss. The sound of lapping water grew louder as the boat rocked frantically from Harry's sudden movement. The wood of the canoe creaked; an owl hooted somewhere above them, probably flying through the cold February moonlight to return to the Owlery. Or perhaps flying from the Owlery to hunt down something to eat, Harry was not sure and was not at all bothered about finding out.

All Harry knew was that at that moment—lying in a rocky harbor in a creaking boat bobbing in the dark water of a black lake, catching glimpses of silver from the sky above and listening to the gentle sounds of the moon-soaked castle grounds all around them as he held Draco Malfoy in his arms and exchanged kiss after soft kiss, every single one felt throughout Harry's entire being—nothing in his life had ever felt so right.

**TBC**


	3. A Foregone Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be on the safe side, there is a trigger warning for this chapter dealing with restraint! So be warned, my lovelies!

"Well, don't you look chipper this morning," Ron commented as Harry took the seat across from him at the breakfast table. He had woken late to find that Ron and Hermione had already gone down to breakfast without him, but that was fine. Everything that morning was fine.

"It's a wonderful morning, isn't it?" Harry grinned, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Normally he drank tea with his breakfast, but after the previous night and how late he had ended up getting back to the dorm, Harry felt as though he could use the extra caffeine.

"I know that face," Ron grinned back, nudging Hermione knowingly. "That is the face of a man who got some. Don't think I didn't hear you sneaking back into the dorm at an ungodly hour."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said lightly, still grinning into his coffee.

"Sure you don't." The sarcasm in Ron's voice was nearly as visible as the steam still rising from Harry's coffee. "That's why Malfoy hasn't taken his eyes off you since the second you walked into the Great Hall."

Unable to help himself, Harry's head automatically whipped around, searching for Malfoy. _Draco_ , he corrected himself, feeling his smile widen as he met Malfoy's eyes. The blond was staring right at him, and as Harry's gaze met his, he smiled a breathtaking smile, one that made Harry's stomach feel tied in knots, knots that only tightened as Harry noticed that Draco had not slicked back his hair that morning, leaving it soft and loose where it covered his forehead.

 _Did he do that for me, just because I said I liked it?_ Harry couldn't help but wonder, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the room and bury his fingers in the silken strands, just to see if it really was as soft as it looked. With all the times that Malfoy had touched Harry's hair, Harry figured it was only fair if he got a turn, too.

"And you said Hermione and I were gross," Ron's voice cut through Harry's fantasy about sprinting to the Slytherin table and burying his hands in Draco's hair before tugging him in for a kiss. "Merlin, I feel like I need to tell both of you to get a bloody room and all you're doing is _staring_ at one another."

Snapping his head back around, Harry felt himself blush. "I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated, feeling his heart still hammering at the heat that had been in Malfoy's eyes, much hotter than the breakfast and the coffee on the table.

"As I said, Harry," Hermione shook her head, looking amused, "playing dumb really doesn't suit you."

"How do you know I'm playing dumb and not just actually really dumb?" Harry demanded, wondering why he was arguing in favor of his own stupidity.

Ron and Hermione exchanged an amused glance. "Do you really want us to answer that, Harry?" Ron wondered, taking a bite of toast. "'Cause right now, I think I know what side Hermione and I are gonna come down on. And that side really is the dumb one, so I s'pose you do have a point."

In response, Harry grumbled something beneath his breath, something he knew neither Ron nor Hermione would be able to interpret, since he was pretty sure his grumbles weren't actually in English. A troll would probably have a better chance of understanding it than any of the human beings within earshot.

"Sorry, Harry, what was that?" Ron asked with a laugh. "Didn't quite catch it."

"I'm gonna start doing your little sister again if you're not careful," Harry threatened, knowing they would both recognize it as an empty threat.

At the joke, Hermione gave him a stony look, but Ron just chuckled. "Oh, as if she'd ever let you. She's married to her bloody broomstick now, there's no room in her life for anything else. Besides," he laughed louder, "I think she's lacking a few things you'd miss, like blond hair and a whiny attitude and a tiny posh cock."

"His cock isn't tiny," Harry replied automatically, flushing crimson as he realized what he had just said. Ron and Hermione both stared at him for several seconds before laughing, Ron slapping the table as he bent over, his face nearly ending up in a plate of eggs.

"Oh my god, Harry," he wheezed, face turning redder than his hair as he guffawed. "I knew that's where you were last night!"

"You don't know anything," Harry muttered, still blushing. While it was true that Malfoy didn't have a tiny cock, Harry had no idea why he had felt the need to inform Ron and Hermione of that. The man's cock was none of their business. It was only barely beginning to be Harry's business.

"I know enough," Ron chuckled. "I know that you spent all of last night sucking off the evil Slytherin dark prince overlord over there."

"He's not that evil," Harry argued, unable to deny the rest of it. "Probably."

"Just evil enough to be fit?" Ron grinned, shaking his head. "Hey, it's fine, Harry. If prats are your new thing now and albinism is some sort of new kink you've developed, all I'll say is, you know, good on you, 'cos it doesn't look like anybody else is lining up to take him."

Harry frowned over his shoulder at Malfoy, doubting that he could be the only one in the entire school to find the blond attractive. He was gorgeous, for Christ's sake, especially with his hair all loose and soft like that; surely Harry couldn't be the only one to think so? No, Harry was sure that Draco had admirers, a thought that Harry did not like at all.

"Excuse me? Harry Potter?"

A timid voice spoke up at Harry's other side, and his head swiveled to find a young girl, maybe fifteen, staring at him nervously.

"Yes?" he asked politely, trying not to be annoyed at the way everyone seemed to enjoy using his full name like that.

"I, er, have something for you," she stammered, surprising him by taking the empty seat on his left. She pulled out a small pink box with a white bow, setting it down on the table next to his plate. "My mum baked them,"—she paused to blush fiercely—"and I thought that you might like some, too? They're really good, I promise!"

"Er, what are they?" Harry wondered, feeling nonplussed. Why was she offering him something her mum had baked? Who even was this girl?

Her blush deepened. "They're chocolate biscuits and they're my favorite, they really are good!"

"I believe you," Harry said awkwardly, unsure what it was this girl really wanted. Was this another attempt at drugging him? "Thank you, er…sorry, what's your name?"

"Oh!" Her face was positively on fire now. "It's Cassia. Er, Cassia Addington. I'm in Ravenclaw."

"Oh, right," Harry nodded, trying to pretend the name was familiar. "Well, thank you, Cassia. And, er, you know, thank your mum for me."

"You're welcome," she breathed, staring at him with shining eyes that made Harry uncomfortable.

"Um, was there something else?" he wondered after nearly a full minute of her simply sitting there staring at him.

"Oh! Um, yes, actually," her blush was so fierce that Harry could almost see steam rising from her cheeks. "I was, um, wondering if…if maybe…"

"Yes?" Harry prodded gently, wondering if she wanted an autograph or something else daft like that. Lord, but he hated getting asked for his autograph, especially by other students. It wasn't like they didn't see him in the classrooms and corridors every single day or anything, right?

"I, um, was just wondering i-i-if…" she stammered, pausing to take a deep breath before blurting out in a rush, "I was wondering if maybe you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me sometime!"

"Oh," Harry said in surprise, shifting uncomfortably and wishing that she had just asked for his autograph instead of asking him on a date in front of Hermione and Ron, the latter of whom was trying his hardest not to laugh. "Er, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm already seeing someone." And god had he never been more appreciative of an honest excuse to politely turn someone down. Harry had never thought he would think these words, but thank god for Malfoy.

"Oh," she said quietly, looking down at her hands, and Harry felt a trickle of guilt slide into his stomach.

"Sorry," he apologized. He hadn't felt this awkward in at least a few days and hoped that she would not start crying or anything insane like that.

"No, it's okay," she said with forced brightness, "I was just wondering. And she must be absolutely gorgeous to be going out with Harry Potter, so I can hardly object. I promise that the biscuits are good though, so just enjoy them, I guess, yeah?"

"Er, yeah," he nodded, feeling nearly as embarrassed as she looked. "Thank you," he called after her as she climbed to her and scurried from the Great Hall. Turning back to Ron and Hermione, he felt shock on his flushed face.

The moment the girl left, Ron burst out laughing, face nearly ending up in the same pile of eggs as earlier as he bent over and howled, and Harry wondered with annoyance why the git didn't just move the damned plate if he was going to keep insisting on laughing like a maniac.

"Breaking hearts before breakfast is even over, eh, Harry?" Ron sniggered, sitting up and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Hey, at least this one wasn't thirteen."

"I'm not dating a sodding fifteen-year-old," Harry muttered, still feeling embarrassed.

Ron laughed again. "Or anything with girl parts anymore."

Glaring at Ron's obvious amusement over Harry's humiliating existence, he handed the box to Hermione without a word, who tugged it open and began casting spells over the cookies. Harry wasn't exactly sure what spells it was that she cast over his presents, but he trusted her to know the most in-depth ones for detecting any sort of potions or magic within food and drink. The spells she cast seemed to take forever, but finally, she straightened and shook her head at Harry.

"Nothing," she said simply, handing the box back to him. "At least, nothing beyond sugar and flour."

"Well, thank god for that," Ron said seriously, and promptly reached out to pluck the largest biscuit from the box and grin at Harry before shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

"I don't even need Hermione," Harry shook his head, "I'll just have _you_ test all the food I get gifted with, shall I?"

Ron swallowed with difficulty. "If it's all half as good as these biscuits, I say it's a deal. Seriously, that girl wasn't lying, these are bloody good." He reached over for another one and Harry swung the box away with a huff. "Oi!" Ron protested, "Give us just one more."

"Fine," Harry rolled his eyes, watching as Ron selected the next biggest one and proceeded to shove that one into his face as well. "You do realize these are _my_ biscuits, yes? They're not _Ron's_ biscuits."

"Hey, I took down Horcruxes too," Ron rolled his eyes. "I deserve some kind of reward, don't I? And nobody ever sends me and Hermione gifts!"

"Weren't you sent a brand-new set of personalized Quidditch gear by someone through the post?" Harry raised one eyebrow. "And wasn't there one week where you got sent three marriage proposals from three different women? And remember that time you were asked out by that Hufflepuff sixth who had been stalking you for a month? And wasn't Hermione gifted that insanely expensive dress and pair of shoes from some wealthy bloke and asked to wear it on a date with him? And sent a stack of personalized parchment and that outrageously expensive quill and ink set from someone? _And_ gifted like half the books in Flourish and Blott's by the owner when he found out it was her favorite shop?"

"Best present I've ever gotten," she said in a dreamy voice, eyes going vacant as though reliving that day in her mind.

"I can buy you books," Ron frowned, clearly not liking Hermione thinking about gifts given to her by other men.

"You can but you don't," she said lightly, smiling at him as he huffed.

"Okay, maybe we get a _few_ presents," Ron said as he turned back to Harry. "But never biscuits! And nobody loves me or Hermione enough to try to drug us against our will, so we _deserve_ biscuits!"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "You want deranged lunatics trying to drug you all the time and want biscuits as compensation because you're lucky enough to _not_ have deranged lunatics following you around trying to drug you all the time?"

Ron scrunched his face up as he thought it out. "Yes," he finally said, reaching out for another biscuit.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, pulling the box farther out of Ron's range. "I say I should get way more compensation than you for having to put up with that shit!" Taking a biscuit out of the box, he chewed it slowly, surprised to find that it really was very good.

"Well," he said suddenly, "I'm going to go. I'll see you two in class, yeah?"

"Hmm, wherever could you be going?" Ron deadpanned, glancing past Harry toward the Slytherin table. "I s'pose we'll just have to wonder."

"Yep," Harry nodded, climbing to his feet. "And you'll just have to want biscuits while you do."

And with that he turned and left the Great Hall, hoping that Malfoy was still watching him and would decide to follow. He took a rather convoluted path of turning down small side corridors until finally, he came to one that he was satisfied would not be used by any other student. As he waited, he ate another biscuit, spinning 'round as he heard footsteps approaching. The sight of Malfoy strolling toward him made him smile.

"Hi," he greeted happily, noting that Malfoy looked even better up close with his hair loose like that.

Malfoy did not say hi back. "What are those?" he asked suspiciously, nodding at the box in Harry's hand.

"Oh, er, a present actually. You want one?" He held up the box and was surprised when Malfoy snatched it away with a huff.

"No, I do not want one, Potter!" he said tightly, surprising Harry again when the blond vanished the entire thing with a scowl. "And you shouldn't be accepting presents from other people!"

"Er, shouldn't I?" Harry asked in confusion. "Hermione checked it over, said there was nothing wrong with them, no spells or love potions or anything."

"That's not the point!" Malfoy snapped. "You're with _me_ , Potter, not some little tramp! You're _mine,_ not that Ravenclaw slag's!"

"Er…" Harry stared at him in shock. "I hardly think she's a tramp…it was only one date she was asking for."

"What?" Malfoy asked coldly, eyes narrowing. "She asked for _what_?"

"I didn't say yes," Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably. What was Malfoy's problem? Harry had obviously turned her down, not shagged her right there on the table.

"You better not have," Malfoy said in a voice that was far too threatening for Harry's liking, and he felt his shoulders stiffen.

"Or what, Malfoy?" Harry glared. They may have shared a spectacular night in the boathouse, but they were still just barely beginning to see one another, and Harry did not like the way that Malfoy was acting as though he owned Harry, as though Harry was his property or his sodding pet or something. Nobody owned Harry but Harry.

"Are you saying you wanted to say yes to her?" Malfoy's voice lowered as he matched Harry's glare.

"For fuck's sake, that's not what I said!" Harry exploded, considering just leaving forever if Malfoy was going to continue being such a berk. "But I don't get what you're so angry about!"

Without warning, Harry was suddenly pressed against the wall of the corridor with a furious Malfoy leaning into him, one pale arm barred across his chest.

"I'm angry, Harry," he whispered, eyes scanning Harry's face, "because some bitch has the nerve to ask you out when you're _mine_."

"Who the hell said I was yours?" Harry demanded, unsure if he should shove Malfoy back or if that would only escalate things.

"I did," Malfoy growled. "And so did you."

"You're delusional." Harry struggled to get out of the iron hold Malfoy had on him, but that only made Malfoy hold him tighter.

"And you're _mine_ ," he repeated in a dangerous voice, and Harry had had more than enough. He had been hoping for a bit of tense-free snogging, not possessive threats and overt lunacy.

"I'm not anyone's, Malfoy," he said angrily, "now get the fuck off me!"

"No," Malfoy said in a low voice, sliding one hand down Harry's stomach to stroke along the left side of his waist. "Not until you tell both of us that you're mine."

"I will bloody hex you if I have to," Harry warned, not wanting to hurt Malfoy but needing to get away from the situation and out of Malfoy's hold. He was trying not to panic but was unsure how long he could remain like that before freaking out. "You do realize that you're effectively destroying every ounce of the trust I had just barely begun to put in you, don't you?"

A strange expression crossed Malfoy's face as his mouth loosened. He appeared torn between wanting to move away and wanting to move closer.

"Just calm down, Draco," Harry said softly, hoping the blond would start acting less crazy if Harry kept the aggression from his own voice. "You're the only one right now that I'm interested in seeing, not some fifteen-year-old. But you're ruining everything by doing this. Why are you doing this?" The end of the sentence sounded nearly anguished to Harry's own ears, and at the sound, Malfoy promptly stepped away, raising one trembling hand to rest against his chest as though trying to calm the wild beating of his heart.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Harry," he apologized, eyes clenched shut. "Fuck, I don't know what just came over me, I really don't."

Harry instantly took a step away from both Malfoy and the wall as he drew a shaky breath, wondering if he should use his freedom to his advantage and escape or if he should stay so they could talk about things. "I don't really know what to say here, Malfoy," he said truthfully, deciding he could always leave if he needed to and he may as well try to sort out what had just happened. He was, however, keeping in the middle of the corridor and away from any walls. "I don't like any of what just happened."

"I know, I'm sorry," Malfoy whispered, sounding pained. "That wasn't okay, I shouldn't have gotten so jealous—"

"I don't like being talked about like I'm just a thing to be owned, like I'm just some possession of yours," Harry interrupted. "I spent ten years and every summer holiday living with people who spoke about me as though I was just a thing, as though I couldn't hear them and had no mind of my own, and I refuse to be with someone who does the exact same thing!"

"I know, it was wrong of me—!"

"I'm not yours, Malfoy," Harry continued, speaking over him, "and I never will be. I may be _with_ you if we do end up together, but I will never _belong_ to you. You don't get to tell me what to do, especially when we're just barely beginning this…whatever this is," he gestured between them. "If we do end up together, I want you in my life as the person I'm dating, not my fucking owner. Got it?"

"Yes," Malfoy nodded frantically, taking a tiny step closer. "I get it, Harry, I'm sorry!"

"I have enough people trying to own me," Harry said, needing Malfoy to fully understand where he was coming from. "I have enough people thinking they have a right to me, trying to slip me potions and thinking they can make me do whatever they want, thinking that what _I_ want doesn't matter in the face of what _they_ want from me. I've been a puppet my entire life, Malfoy, turned into a servant and a saviour and a martyr by so many people who never once asked me what it was that _I_ wanted. I have more than enough of it in my life already, and I don't need it from you too!"

"I understand, I'm sorry," Malfoy whispered, wringing his hands together. Harry wanted to ask how he was able to go from angry to distressed so easily but decided that was probably just a Malfoy thing. It definitely seemed like a Malfoy thing.

"I'll talk to you later," Harry sighed, deciding he did not like the conversation and maybe they should just wait to sort it all out.

"No, Harry, please!" Malfoy leapt forward and seized his wrist, immediately dropping it again at the glare Harry shot him. "I'm sorry," he said in a tiny voice, and Harry was immediately annoyed at himself as he felt his anger begin to slip away at the sound of pain in Malfoy's voice.

"It's fine, Malfoy," Harry sighed again, sounding weary. "I just…I think I just need to think about all of this some more. Maybe I haven't actually thought it through enough yet."

"No, don't say that!" Malfoy pleaded, shifting his weight forward although he kept himself at a distance. "You already thought about it! You told me you thought about it and that you had made your decision! I'm _sorry_ , I really, really am! I'm sorry I got jealous like that, I won't do it again!"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "It's not the jealousy that's the problem. People get jealous, Malfoy, everybody does, that's not what this is about. It's the way you were acting about it. You do realize that you literally pinned me against a wall and refused to allow me free until you got your way, don't you?"

Malfoy's eyes widened at that, as though he had not realized he had done such a thing until hearing Harry point it out to him. Harry wasn't sure if he should tell Malfoy that he had really scared Harry with that move. Harry did not like being held down like that, completely unable to move or get free—it made him feel trapped and claustrophobic and gave him the suffocating feeling of being locked in a tiny cramped cupboard for days at a time.

"Don't ever hold me down like that again, Malfoy," Harry said quietly, taking another few steps back.

"I won't!" he said immediately. "I'm sorry, Harry, really!"

"I'll just…I'll see you later." Harry sounded tired; his good mood was now as vanished as the biscuits and all he felt was worn out. Without another word, he turned and left, praying Malfoy would not follow behind him.

Ears strained for any footsteps following, he took two shortcuts and ended up miles away from the Arithmancy class that Harry knew Malfoy shared with Hermione in the mornings.

Sighing to himself, Harry began to head to his own class, wondering if Ron was already there and wondering just what the hell was wrong with Malfoy.

oOo

Harry didn't speak to Malfoy for the rest of the day. He had no idea what to say and no idea what he felt. On one hand, he was attracted to Malfoy—he knew that to be fact and he could more or less accept it without too much of an existential crisis. But did that mean that he now had feelings for Malfoy? What if all he liked was Malfoy's face and not his personality?

But every time that thought passed Harry's mind, he thought of the boathouse and the way Malfoy had acted with him, the soft kisses and gentle touches and the way he had seemed so excited and amazed about something as simple as holding Harry's hand and sitting next to him. Harry would never forget the look of wonder in Malfoy's eyes when Harry had first shown up, like it was a present he had longed for but never dared dream he would actually receive. Harry had really liked that.

But on the other hand, Malfoy had all but flown off the handle at Harry receiving a gift from another person, something that happened to Harry quite a lot. Would Malfoy lose it like that every single time? Harry couldn't deal with it if he did. If that had been a one-time thing, Harry would be willing to just let it go, but if that was what was going to happen every single time, then Harry wanted no part of any of it.

Sighing, Harry tossed another rock into the lake, watching the water ripple in ever-expanding circles, wondering how so tiny a thing as a pebble could cause such widespread disruption across the still surface of the lake. Was that really all it took to cause such chaos? Just one tiny thing to start it all, one tiny spark to ignite flames large enough to engulf the entire earth?

Looking around himself, Harry spotted a large rock and threw it as far as he could, listening to the _thunk_ it made as it hit the water and sank out of sight, and he wondered what it was he was trying to prove to himself with that action.

"Harry?"

A familiar voice called his name and he turned his head, startled to see Luna coming toward him.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked curiously, sinking down onto the cold grass next to him.

"Just thinking," he answered, turning back to the lake and chucking another rock in.

"Aren't you afraid you'll hit a lurdling?" she wondered, tilting her head as she watched him. "They like to swim close to the surface of the water, you know."

Harry stared at her, wondering if he should bother asking what the hell a lurdling was. _No, better not_ , he decided, dropping the stone in his hand with a sigh.

"So what are you doing out here, Luna?" he asked, steering the subject away from nonexistent water creatures.

"It's beautiful down here in the evenings, isn't it?" she gestured toward the lake. "Plus, I've always heard that marnadines are known to gather in this part of the country around this time of the month as they're preparing to hibernate. They sleep through spring and mate in summer and hibernate underground but have been sometimes known to live in trees in the autumn. I've always wanted to see one but they really only come out at nightfall, so I've been coming down here at dusk every day hoping to catch sight of one."

"Er, and have you yet?" Harry wondered, unsure just what the hell kind of creature a marnadine was meant to be.

"Not yet," she sighed, sounding sad, "but hopefully soon. I can't wait to tell my father when I finally do see one, he's been trying to catch glimpses of them for years."

"Right," Harry said in amusement, shaking his head. He was glad that Luna and her father seemed to take so much joy from make-believe creatures that neither of them had ever seen. It made Harry feel hopeful to see the hope in other people, even if that hope was admittedly based on things that had never actually existed. "Well, I hope you see one."

"That's kind of you, Harry," she smiled, falling silent as she stared out over the lake.

After several minutes of silence, the two of them gazing at the water both lost in their thoughts, Luna finally broke the silence as she turned to face him. "You seem sad," she observed, tucking her hair behind one ear, and Harry noted that she seemed to be wearing actual flowers for earrings, a small purple flower that he did not recognize.

At the three words, he sighed. "Not sad," he said, "just…confused."

"What is it you're confused about?"

He stared in surprise, not exactly sure why he was surprised she had asked him that. Although he wouldn't exactly consider him and Luna to be the closest of friends, she actually really was rather good at speaking to about problems and helping him sort out how he felt about certain things. She was surprisingly insightful in a way that most people did not see when they looked at her. Harry had always felt a certain connection with her because he had always known that she too knew what it was like to feel alone and misunderstood by everyone around her, as he had felt the first eleven years of his life.

"Is it something to do with love?"

The question nearly made Harry choke. "Love? What do you mean by love? Why would you think that?"

She shrugged. "Just the way you were staring out at the lake and sighing, it seemed very lovelorn to me."

"Er…" Harry squirmed, unsure how much he could tell her. Did he really want to discuss his relationship problems with Luna?

"You don't have to tell me specifics," she said kindly, "but you can talk to me about anything you would like, Harry, and I can always listen, even if I don't actually have experience with whatever you're talking about. I've never been in a relationship before, but I hope one day to be, as soon as I can find someone kind and sweet who would like to be with someone like me."

Although Luna was still smiling, the words made Harry feel sad. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who would love to be with you, Luna," he replied automatically, unsure if he was trying to cheer up her or himself with the comment. "You're…really nice, and easy to talk to, and…you're very pretty…" he trailed off in embarrassment. Oh, god, why was he so pants at comforting people? Why was he even trying to comfort her when she did not look as though she even needed comforting?

At his words, she laughed lightly, the sound reminding Harry of windchimes in a warm spring breeze. "Thank you, Harry. You really are a very kind person, you know. You and Ginny are the only people outside of my parents to have ever told me I'm pretty. Ginny was very kind, too, I miss her being here. The two of you made a nice couple. Is the confusion over her? Do you miss her?"

"Er, yes and no," Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "I mean, I do miss her, but not in _that_ way, you know? I miss her in a friendly way. She wasn't the one I was thinking about."

"Do I know the person you're thinking about?"

The question made Harry balk. _Oh yeah,_ he thought darkly, _you know him. You spent a thousand years locked up in the cellar of his bloody giant mansion._ God, what was he thinking? He couldn't speak to Luna about Malfoy! What if that brought up awful memories for her? Surely Malfoy was the last person Luna wanted to hear spoken about, and certainly the last person she wanted to hear that Harry was dating.

"Um, yeah, yeah you do," he said quietly.

"Are you confused because of how you feel about them?" she wondered, "Or is it because it's someone you feel you shouldn't be with?"

Harry stared at her in amazement, wondering how she was able to correctly guess both of his main issues with his attraction to Malfoy. "Are you a Legilimens?" he demanded, suddenly worried that the girl was reading his every thought.

She laughed at the question. "I would hardly be rude enough to read your mind without your permission, Harry. That wouldn't be a very nice thing to do to a friend, even if I _could_ do it. I don't think Legilimency is a very nice thing to learn; I certainly know that I have thoughts I wouldn't want others to know about."

"Oh, right," he said weakly, embarrassed he had even asked the question.

"Are you saying I was right earlier, with my questions?"

"Er, yeah, a bit," he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.

"Well, why is it that you can't be with her, exactly?"

There was nothing but warmth and kindness in her voice, and Harry knew. He knew that Luna would never judge him or look down on him for anything he told her—he knew without a doubt that she was his friend and always would be. She was one of the few friends who had always stuck by him no matter what—she had gone to the bloody Ministry with him to rescue Sirius, for Merlin's sake, without a moment of hesitation. And all because he had _asked_ her; she had been one of the only members of the D.A. to answer his call for help, risking her life for him on a suspicion that had been wrong, and had never blamed him or made him feel bad for nearly getting them all killed for a lie. She had always shown up when he needed her; she had never turned her back on him or ever made him feel bad about himself.

At both the remembrance and the realization, Harry felt a warm rush of affection toward her and decided he may as well speak to her about what was happening if she was going to lower his guard for him by speaking in such a kind voice.

"It's just…" he began hesitantly, "it's someone that…someone that I never expected to get involved with, because this person and I have never gotten along in the past. I thought they hated me. And I thought I hated them. But it turns out that they want to be with me…they say they've had feelings for me for a long time. And I might have feelings for them back, but at the same time…I dunno, I'm just not sure _how_ to be with them, you know? Because I'm still not sure what my feelings really mean. And then today…"

"What happened today?" she prodded, casting a warming charm over the both of them, and Harry shot her a grateful look.

"Today…well, I got a present from some Ravenclaw girl today, a box of biscuits. And this person I'm talking about saw me eating them and freaked out and vanished the box, saying that I shouldn't even accept presents from anybody else because I was theirs and I belonged to them and all this insane jealous rot and even tried to force me to say that I belong to them. But then they got really upset and apologized for it and the apology really did seem real, but now I'm just not sure what it all means and if they're going to be like that again and I'm wondering if maybe it'd just be better for the both of us if I walked away from the whole thing now."

"And do you think you could?" she asked softly, head tilted as she considered him. "Walk from it all, I mean. Do you think you would be able to turn your back on this person completely? Or is there a chance trying to walk away from them would simply drive you mad from how much you would be left thinking about them and left wondering what might have happened?"

"I-I dunno," Harry said in surprise. He hadn't thought of it like that, but Luna was right. What if walking away from Malfoy only left Harry a mental mess from constantly obsessing over him? Harry was no stranger to obsessing over Malfoy from a distance; what if turning his back on the chance to be with him made that past obsession look like child's play?

"Can I ask you a question, Harry?" her whimsical voice cut through his thoughts and he turned back to face her, nodding. "This person you're talking about…you're not talking about a girl, are you? This person is a boy, isn't he?"

"What?" Harry choked, wondering just how the hell she had known that. Fuck, maybe McGonagall should hire Luna to teach Divination and not Trelawny. "What are you—how did you— _what_?"

She shrugged casually as though it was neither a big deal nor difficult to figure out. "You're being very careful with your pronouns, and I can't but help but feel as though if it were a girl, you'd have used the word 'she' by now. And it would make more sense for you to feel as though you could not be with a boy."

"I…" he raised a shaky hand to rake through his hair. "Yeah…yeah, I'm talking about a boy."

She nodded. "And is the reason you feel you can't be with him only because he's a boy? Or because of who he is specifically, even beyond your past hatred of him?"

Harry stared at her. "You are very, very scary," he said finally. "I really do feel like you're in my head right now."

She smiled at him. "It's not too difficult to infer all of this from the things you're not saying. The most important things you've said so far are the things you haven't actually said aloud."

He scrunched his nose in confusion as he pondered the convoluted statement. "I'm not even sure if that makes sense."

"It doesn't have to," she shrugged. "But tell me who this boy is. Is he another eighth-year?"

Harry laughed weakly. "What, you can't guess from what I've not said so far? You seem to be doing a really good job of telling yourself my side of the conversation."

She returned the laugh. "Well, I do have a small list of possibilities and I think I might know who you're talking about, but I thought it would be kinder to give you the opportunity to tell me in your own time."

"Oh, god," he groaned. "You already know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you?"

"He's very good-looking," she nodded. "And he's become a surprisingly nice person."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in surprise, wondering when the hell Malfoy had become nice or when the hell Luna had discovered this. It certainly couldn't have been when she was being held at the Manor.

"He apologized to me," she said, staring out across the water and sounding serious, "the first week of term. He approached me and asked if we could speak and apologized for everything that had happened to me, and especially for his family's part in it all. He told me that he had never wanted to see me hurt and that not even his parents had wanted me held against my will, saying that it was never their idea to see me imprisoned. He told me that that's the point at which his mother had pulled completely away from the ideology of the other Death Eaters, saying that she did not at all like the idea of a child being held prisoner in order to punish the child's parent, especially a pureblooded child and especially in her own home. He told me that his mother was very upset about it, actually, and I believe him. She was always surprisingly gentle with me while I was there and went out of her way to see me unharmed, and I'm certain it could have been much worse for me than it was, even if it was a rather terrifying experience."

At the words, the first thing Harry felt was shock, followed by gratitude for Narcissa Malfoy for looking out for Luna, followed by a fond pride in Malfoy for seeking Luna out to apologize, followed by an irrational wave of hurt that it had taken him _months_ to seek Harry out and say thank you when it had only taken a week to seek Luna out to say sorry for his family's imprisonment of her within his very own home. Was an apology like _that_ really easier than thanking someone?

"I had no idea," he mumbled, still feeling too shocked to say much else.

"I think he really is trying to change," she said softly, turning back to face Harry, "even if he hasn't fully gotten there yet. But maybe all he needs is a chance to learn from his mistakes. Maybe he's already learned from what he did today, Harry."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. "Thank you, Luna," he finally said in a quiet voice, looking her in the eye. "I'm glad that I'm lucky enough to have you for a friend."

She smiled so widely at the statement that Harry was worried her whole face might crack in half. "Nobody's ever told me they're lucky to have me in their life before. Thank you, Harry." Her eyes glittered and Harry thought they looked suspiciously watery, but it was too dark to know for sure. "I think that might be the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I'm glad we sat in your compartment that day on the train, when we first met," Harry said, turning back to the water. "You're a really good friend, Luna, and everyone who knows you is a lucky person."

Luna said nothing, and Harry glanced over to see her turned away, wiping surreptitiously at her eyes. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

"Come on," he grinned, climbing to his feet and holding out a hand to pull her up. "Let's go look for some marnadines, yeah?"

oOo

By the time Harry was nearing the common room, he was feeling in a much better mood. He and Luna had wandered the grounds searching for imaginary creatures, and although they hadn't found any, he had still had fun. He had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Luna and how much he really did enjoy her company. He was grinning to himself about something she had said as he turned a corner, only to stop dead at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on the cold hard floor next to the portrait of the Fat Lady, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed. Was he asleep?

The sound of Harry's footsteps as he neared made Malfoy suddenly jerk up, eyes flying open and landing immediately on Harry.

"Harry," he breathed, quickly climbing to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked incredulously. Was Malfoy waiting there for him? How did he even know where the Gryffindor common room was located?

"I'm waiting for you," he said in a small voice, leaning back against the wall and staring down at his feet. "I wanted to find you."

"How long have you been waiting out here?" Harry wasn't sure why he was so surprised at Malfoy's answer. Who else would Malfoy have been waiting outside the Gryffindor common room for?

"Oh, not too long," Malfoy said in a voice that Harry did not believe for a second.

"How do you even know where the common room is?"

"Oh, um…" At the question, Malfoy looked sheepish. "I may have paid a second-year to tell me. Loyalty and secrecy tend to lose their value a bit in the face of gold."

Harry shook his head with a sigh. "Well, here I am, Malfoy. What do you want?"

"Where…where were you?" Malfoy still sounded uncertain, as though he was not sure if Harry was about to stalk away or tell him to go to hell or something.

"With a friend," he responded, one corner of his mouth twitching as he thought back to hunting down strange creatures that did not actually exist with Luna Lovegood.

Malfoy saw the smile and his face fell, hunching in on himself. "Was it that Ravenclaw girl?"

"No, it wasn't," Harry said softly, hating the injured way Malfoy had curled in on himself. Was he still upset about that fifth-year? "It was Luna, so I s'pose it was _a_ Ravenclaw girl. Not _that_ Ravenclaw girl. I mean, Christ, Malfoy, I don't even know her!"

Malfoy nodded down at his shoes, arms wrapped around his torso protectively.

Harry sighed. "Come on, then. Let's go find somewhere to talk, yeah?"

Malfoy glanced up sharply, appearing suddenly hopeful. "You want to talk to me?"

"Well," Harry sighed again, running a hand through his hair, "you came all the way up here and waited for me in the cold corridor on the fucking _ground,_ so I figure we can at least talk. And…I was meaning to talk to you anyway."

"All right, Harry," Malfoy breathed, eyes shining, "yes, let's talk. _Please_ let's talk."

One corner of Harry's mouth threatened to pull up in a small smile as he beckoned Malfoy to follow him, who fell into step beside the brunet as they set off down the hallway. "The North Wing should be empty," Harry said, and Malfoy nodded. Once they reached it, Malfoy darted forward to open the door for Harry, surprising the brunet. "Thank you," he said in bemusement. Malfoy slipped in after him and Harry pulled out his wand to lock the door and cast a privacy ward over the room, cast in silver moonlight from the windows lining one wall.

They both marched forward and took opposite seats at the nearest table, glancing at one another before looking away, and Harry wasn't sure how to start the conversation.

"I'm sorry for today," Malfoy said quietly, shattering the silence, and Harry glanced up to find him staring down at the table. "You were right to be angry with me."

"I was angry," Harry allowed, "but mostly I was confused. I wasn't expecting that, Malfoy. It was a bit more extreme than I'm comfortable with. I really don't like any of what happened."

Malfoy nodded, appearing abashed. "I have no idea what came over me, I swear it! I just…just the thought of you with that girl, seeing her speak to you in the Great Hall and seeing you accept that present from her…it just made me feel so…"

"Jealous and insane?" Harry asked dryly.

"Insecure," Malfoy answered in a soft voice, and Harry startled at the honesty and the remorse in the single word.

"Insecure?"

Malfoy nodded again, lowering his head even further until his chin was practically buried in his chest. "We both know that my feelings for you are much stronger than your feelings for me, if those feelings even exist at all. And we both know you could certainly do better than me, and that most of the school wants to be with you. And I also know that you don't actually owe me anything, least of all fidelity or any sort of promises of faithfulness, but…"

"But?" Harry prodded, unsure of how to respond.

"But…" Malfoy blushed and squirmed, "last night, in the boathouse…it was the best night of my entire life. And I wanted so badly for it to be just as monumental for you, and seeing you with that girl, I just…I just thought that…"

"That it didn't mean anything to me?" Harry guessed, wanting to scoff at the ridiculousness of the previous night not meaning anything to Harry. Of course it had meant something to Harry, it had meant something very important to Harry. He just wasn't quite sure what.

Malfoy nodded.

"Malfoy…" Harry sighed, wanting to rub his temples but keeping his hands in his lap. He did not want to seem like he was agitated with Malfoy, only at the situation and his own discomfort. "Look, just because I talk to other people doesn't mean it's some sort of negative reflection of my feelings for you. I am allowed to speak to other people, you know."

"I know," Malfoy grimaced. "I'm sorry for overreacting."

"It wasn't just the jealousy. That wasn't the worst part," Harry said, twisting his fingers together in his lap. "I mean, I meant everything I said about not being a thing; I refuse to be with someone who feels as though they own me. But I also meant what I said about you holding me down like that. I can't be restrained like that, Malfoy, I really can't handle it. It makes me think of—" he bit the end of his sentence off, wondering what on earth had possessed him to almost admit his upbringing to Draco Malfoy.

"Of what?" Malfoy asked, a pleading edge to the words. "I'm sorry, really, I'm so, so sorry! I won't ever do it again, I promise! What…what does it make you think of?"

"It makes me feel like I can't breathe," Harry mumbled, deciding they could never solve anything without honesty and stupid necessary disclosure. God, Harry hated disclosure. "It makes me feel trapped and like I'm suffocating. You remember how I mentioned earlier about living with people who spoke about me like a thing? And about being treated like an object and a servant?"

Malfoy nodded slowly, a pained expression on his face.

"My aunt and uncle never liked me," Harry said quietly, ignoring the tightening in his chest. There were very few things he hated more in the world than speaking about his childhood to others. "They were the ones who took me in after my parents died, but they never wanted me. I was forced at a young age to cook and clean for them, while my cousin was allowed to sit in front of the telly for hours at a time and eat all the food I had made. And…" he took a deep breath before continuing, "I never had a proper bedroom for the first ten years I lived there. I was kept in a tiny cupboard under the stairs, one that had a lock on the outside. If I disobeyed them or displeased them in any way, I was thrown in there and locked in, with nothing to do and nothing to eat, and I had to wait in there until they felt kind-hearted enough to let me out, usually when they were hungry and my aunt didn't feel like cooking or one of them needed something cleaned. There were so many times I would have panic attacks as a child from being locked in there for too long, but it only made them threaten to keep me in there longer, said I deserved it for being a burden. They would even lock me in there at night to sleep because they didn't trust me not to steal food or roam around the house or something. And even now, I can't handle feeling trapped like that, Malfoy, I can't handle feeling restrained in any way because it puts me right back there in that damned cupboard. And I especially can't handle something like that from somebody I should be able to trust because I should have been able to trust my aunt and uncle but I never could, because they never cared about me. And I can't handle the idea of not being able to trust the person I'm with when I should trust them more than anyone else in the world. You—you really scared me today, Malfoy, when you did that, I wasn't expecting that. So you can't _ever_ do anything like that again, I fucking mean it."

After what felt like an entire century of speaking, Harry finally fell quiet. The silence around them felt heavy, and Harry risked a glance up to find Malfoy sitting straight up in his chair, spine a rigid steel bar. He had one hand raised, covering his mouth in shock as he gazed at Harry in absolute horror.

"That's how you were raised?" he whispered, still sounding horrified. "In a fucking _cupboard_? Put there by your own _family_?"

Harry nodded, tensing as Malfoy suddenly climbed to his feet and strode around the table to Harry's chair. Without a word, Malfoy flung his arms around Harry and dropped down into his lap, burying his face in Harry's neck as he shuddered.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, keeping his face tucked out of sight, and Harry was surprised at how thick his voice was. Malfoy wasn't crying, was he? …was he? "God, I'm so sorry, Harry. Nobody ever deserves something that awful, _especially_ you! I'm sorry that happened to you and I'm sorry for what I did! I didn't mean to take you back to such a horrible time in your life. _Fuck_ , I'm an awful person!" His hands twisted tightly in the back of Harry's t-shirt, breathing deeply.

"No, you're not awful, Malfoy," Harry said in a low voice, hesitating for a moment before rubbing Malfoy's back to comfort them both. "You didn't know about any of that. I told you so that you would know and so that nothing like this morning will ever happen again. And also because…" Harry trailed off and Malfoy squeezed him lightly in encouragement to continue, "because I want you to know me, my past and my secrets and how I feel about things. If we're going to keep seeing one another, it's important to know these things about each other, isn't it?"

Malfoy pulled back in shock, eyes bright and shiny as he gazed at Harry as though he expected the brunet to laugh and take it all back as a joke. "You really still want to keep seeing me?"

At the question, Harry smiled. "Do you really think I'd be here, telling you those things and letting you sit in my bloody lap if I didn't?"

Malfoy smiled a gorgeous smile, making Harry's breath hitch. "You're definitely the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in, not to mention the best-looking. I should start carrying you around for classes; the Hogwarts chairs are terribly uncomfortable and certainly not attractive."

Harry laughed. "I'm glad I could be useful."

"You are definitely something all right, Harry Potter," Malfoy murmured, slowly leaning forward to press a cautious kiss to his mouth. Harry responded without hesitation, kissing Malfoy back and lifting his hand to finally tangle his fingers in the silken strands of Malfoy's hair, noting that it really was as soft as it looked.

"I love your hair like this," Harry mumbled into the other boy's mouth, and he felt Malfoy smile.

"I wore it like this for you," the blond whispered, and Harry deepened the kiss, groaning as Malfoy began exploring Harry's chest and upper arms with his hands. "When did you get all these muscles, hmm? I always thought you were so scrawny when we were younger, but now…" Malfoy squeezed Harry's biceps, and Harry felt a rush of pride that Malfoy liked the way Harry looked.

"I spent the summer at the Burrow with the Weasleys," Harry said, speaking against Malfoy's lips, "and I spent all my free time playing Quidditch in their paddock and helping Ginny train for the Harpies. She had me doing the most insane drills and running every day with her."

Malfoy pulled back to eye him suspiciously. "And were drills the only strenuous activity the two of you were doing together?"

Harry gave him an exasperated look. "You do realize that you and I were not seeing each other at the time, don't you? And no, she and I weren't together at that point. And even if we had been, we certainly weren't going to get up to anything in her _parents'_ house, with Ron sleeping nearby. Do you know how many brothers she's got? I don't need them hearing about me defiling their baby sister in the bedroom she grew up in and banding together to kick the shit out of me for it. Some of them are big, you know."

"Yes, I remember the dragon tamer," Malfoy said, and Harry frowned at the faraway look in Malfoy's eyes. Okay, maybe Harry really could better understand the Slytherin's jealousy; Harry was nowhere near as built as Charlie.

"Why didn't you go into professional Quidditch?" Malfoy wondered, pressing light kisses to Harry's mouth and chin. "If the youngest Weasley was offered a spot on a team, I'm certain you must have been approached by a team as well."

"Yeah, a few," Harry shrugged, "but I haven't wanted to play professionally in a while. I prefer a life with less of a spotlight attached to it."

Malfoy grinned against his mouth. "Well, then I hate to be the one to inform you that the spotlight over your head is not likely to vanish anytime soon, if ever at all."

"Ugh, I _know_ ," Harry complained, wishing Malfoy wasn't speaking the truth. Stupid spotlight. Why couldn't it shine on something that actually wanted it there? Why had it felt the need to find the most reluctant thing it could?

"You poor thing," Malfoy laughed with a kiss.

"Aren't I just though?" Harry smiled, "You should try to ease my suffering somehow."

"Hmm, maybe I should," Malfoy agreed, breath catching as Harry slid a hand up Malfoy's thigh and squeezed before sliding it around to his hip. The tips of his fingers dug into the top of Malfoy's arse for several seconds before he dragged his hand up the side of Malfoy's waist and across his chest, all the way up to his hair. "Hmm," Draco groaned, " _Harry_."

"I love hearing you say my name like that," Harry whispered, the fingers of one hand tangled in Malfoy's hair while he held Malfoy around the waist with his other arm. "Before all this, I never imagined you saying it in any sort of context, but hearing it said like _that_ …Jesus."

"I want you in my mouth again, Harry," Malfoy murmured, and Harry shivered as his heart almost exploded from the heat in Malfoy's words, his eyes, his warm hands traveling over every inch of Harry they could reach. "I want to taste your pleasure and feel your cock on my tongue again."

"Oh, _Christ_ ," Harry groaned, kissing Malfoy fiercely, "who the hell taught you how to talk like that?"

"Nobody taught me my desires," the blond said in a low voice, "I'm simply vocalizing what I want."

"I love hearing you vocalize then," Harry panted, "you should vocalize your desires more often. All the time. Every day."

Malfoy laughed. "I don't really think I've ever been one to keep silent about the things I want."

"Except me," Harry rolled his eyes, "for years apparently."

"You seem to be the exception to most things."

Harry smiled but didn't respond, deciding that kissing was more productive than words at that moment. Moaning into Harry's mouth, Malfoy squirmed on his lap, putting pressure on his aching cock, and Harry couldn't help but return the moan. A moment later, however, and he was frowning in confusion, staring at empty air. Hadn't Malfoy just been there? Where the hell had he gone?

A tap on his knee drew Harry's attention and he glanced down, eyes widening in surprise when he saw Malfoy on his knees before him, smiling seductively up at Harry.

"How did you get down there so fast?" Harry wondered, incredulity coloring his tone.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's what you ask me? Really? I'm on my knees about to suck your cock and all you ask is how I got down here so quickly?"

"You're right," Harry grinned, widening his legs, "your priorities are clearly the better ones."

Malfoy chuckled fondly, reaching out to unfasten Harry's jeans. The denims were baggy enough that Malfoy could easily part them enough to pull his cock free, wasting no time in taking it into his mouth.

"Oh, god," Harry uttered, throwing his head back and staring up at the ceiling as Malfoy began to take him into the back of his throat. A groan escaped him as Malfoy swallowed around him, throat tightening, and Harry took a second to wonder at the surrealness of the situation; he wasn't certain if he would ever get used to it. He sincerely hoped the level of surprise and thrill would never fade, no matter how many times he and Malfoy did this.

Malfoy began to bob his head, starting shallow and slow and gradually gaining speed as he bobbed lower and lower each time. He twisted his tongue around the head of Harry's cock, the brunet panting heavily above him as he stared down in wonder at the boy on his knees. When he had been younger, he had fantasized of Malfoy on his knees before him in humiliation, in shame and apology, but never for something like _this_ , and he certainly had never expected that kneeling before Harry would be a position that Malfoy would not only want but do so completely of his own free will—Harry would never have imagined that Malfoy would ask to be allowed to be in such a position.

As Malfoy moved faster and faster, Harry felt his thighs start to tremble, his entire body quivering as he felt the familiar heat of release building within him.

"Malfoy," Harry panted, both hands tangled as gently as he could in Malfoy's hair. " _Draco_."

At the sound of his given name, Draco doubled his efforts, stroking the thick vein along the underside at the base of Harry's cock while his head bobbed up and down faster and faster, Harry's thighs trembling and his heart pounding and his head swimming and his entire body alight with pleasure, with sensation, with life and heat and adrenaline and _Draco_.

Malfoy pulled back to the tip with a hard suck and flicked his tongue over the head, and at that Harry came, releasing a muffled cry that he tried to hold back by biting his lip so hard he was certain it must have broken skin, even if he could not taste any blood. Malfoy was still swallowing around him and humming his satisfaction, and Harry wasn't sure if he had ever felt more amazing in his entire life.

"Draco," he whispered, and Malfoy pulled back to offer him a smile.

At the sight, Harry was unable to resist kissing him, tugging him forward and pouring as much passion into it as he could before pulling back. "Get on the table."

Malfoy's nose scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"Get on the table," Harry repeated, nodding toward the table directly behind Malfoy. "Get on and lie down on your back."

"Erm, okay," the blond said slowly, still sounding confused, and Harry grinned as he watched Malfoy climb to his feet and hop up onto the table. He swung his legs nervously for a moment before taking a breath and scooting farther back, staring at Harry for a moment before laying down.

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry tucked himself away and refastened his jeans before rising from the chair and standing over Malfoy near the boy's blond head, who was staring up at Harry so intensely that Harry had to glance down at himself just to make sure his cock wasn't still hanging out or something else as horribly embarrassing as that.

But no, everything seemed to be in order, except for one large and aggravating issue—Malfoy's clothes. Harry didn't like them. They were awful and annoying and completely in the way of everything good in the world that he wanted right then. He had never really liked the school uniform before and always took the opportunity to change out of his own the second he was able to, but he had never hated the uniform as much as he did right then.

Pulling out his wand, he bent down to kiss Malfoy, whispering a spell into his mouth and smiling to himself at the yelp Malfoy made in response as his clothing suddenly vanished and he was left without a stitch on.

"Potter!" he exclaimed, "You vanished my clothes! What the hell? You can't just vanish a person's clothing like that, with no warning whilst distracting them with a kiss! That's just—that's just perverse!"

"Are you objecting, Draco?" Harry raised one eyebrow at him.

"Well, I—no," Malfoy said, sounding doubtful "But you still can't just—"

"Oh, unclench, blondie," Harry said in amusement. "Your clothes are on that chair over there, I just took them off, I didn't banish them or anything."

"Really?" Malfoy twisted around to check for himself, seeing his clothing in a clumsily folded pile on a nearby chair. "That's a damn handy spell, I will definitely give you that. Where did you learn to do something like that?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Harry grinned, not wanting to tell him that Ginny was the one who had taught him the spell. She could be very demanding when she wanted something and could be far too impatient to deal with taking clothing off the long way. "I am a talented individual, I'll have you know."

"Prove it," Malfoy challenged, wriggling on the table, and Harry suddenly remembered that the boy was one hundred percent beautifully gloriously naked, just for him. "Show me how talented you really are."

"You're on," Harry chuckled, kissing Malfoy one more time before beginning to make his way lower, trailing kisses down his throat and chest. He paused to tug at both nipples with his teeth, loving the way it made Malfoy squirm and clutch at Harry's hair as though trying to hold his head in place. Harry licked and bit his way across Draco's stomach, marveling at the whipcord lean muscles of the blond. "Mmm, you taste like candy," Harry noted, grinning at the sight of Malfoy's stomach clenching and unclenching as Harry dragged his mouth across it, scraping the skin with his teeth.

"Of course I do," Malfoy panted, writhing as Harry reached what he suspected was a ticklish spot. "Why wouldn't I? Are you saying you were assuming I _didn't_ taste like candy? That's simply absurd, Potter, all Malfoys taste like candy, it's our famous family flavor. It's a genetic trait amongst my ancestors, like blond hair and superior intelligence. We can only taste as good as we look, you know."

Harry laughed, watching gooseflesh ripple across Malfoy's skin as the breath from Harry's chuckles puffed against his stomach. "So, are you saying that you would have tasted like a prat when you were younger?"

"I said look, not act," Malfoy huffed, "How does one _look_ like a prat?"

"Um, do I really need to explain that to _you,_ when you were friends with Goyle pretty much your whole life?"

Malfoy grinned reluctantly, appearing to be holding back a laugh. "All right, fair point. But _I've_ never looked like a prat so of course I've never tasted like one. Pratishness is not even a flavor, it's more a state of being."

"You did look like a prat though," Harry argued, biting Draco's stomach as he squirmed. "But a hot one. Hot posh prat was pretty much your signature look."

"As long as it was some sort of attractive, I'll take it," Malfoy allowed. "Now _please_ , Harry. I thought you said I tasted like candy! What sane person has an entire tableful of candy before them and doesn't eat any of it?"

"Oh, I'll eat you," Harry said playfully, biting at Malfoy's stomach again and licking over it with his tongue. "Mmm, definitely candy."

As Malfoy's panting grew louder, Harry finally took pity on him, deciding the teasing had gone on long enough and Harry's fun would have to come to an end. Shifting lower, he raised his head to stare down for a moment at a completely undone Malfoy, eyes clenched shut as he dragged in heavy breaths. God, Draco was _gorgeous_. Harry had never thought that he would ever find another boy sexy, but Malfoy just _was._ He was sexy and gorgeous and attractive and hot as all sin and Harry wanted him more than anything.

Leaning back down, he trailed a line of kisses from the base of Draco's shaft up to the head of his cock, lingering there to lick along the tip before using one hand to guide it into his mouth. Draco cried out as his hips jerked up off the table, and Harry was glad he had only taken in the very tip as nearly half of the entire thing was suddenly shoved farther into his mouth.

"Stay down, you," he said sternly, pulling back to speak.

Malfoy smiled. "But I always thought it was better to be up during this sort of thing. Being down during a blowjob doesn't sound very effective to me. Who taught you these things?"

"Oh, hush," Harry shook his head, unable to fight a smile. "This is only my second time doing this, don't you dare choke me."

"I'll try my hardest not to," Malfoy groaned, "even though my cock is ridiculously large. Like _seriously_ big, probably the biggest in the entire school. Probably even the nation, who knows, it certainly wouldn't surprise me. And reminding me that I'm the only person you've ever done this to will not help anything."

"Who the hell talks this much while they're getting their dick sucked?" Harry wondered, staring down at the blond in amusement and disbelief.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be very much sucking going on at the moment, so…"

Taking the—incredibly obvious—hint, Harry took Malfoy back into his mouth, stroking the base with one hand while he focused on licking and sucking the top half, humming around Malfoy and loving the way it made Draco's entire body shiver. Pulling off, he sucked at the head and tongued the slit for several moments before trailing another line of kisses down the shaft and lower, licking at the swollen sack of the other boy and hearing Malfoy cry out in surprise as Harry gently sucked a bollock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before releasing it and doing the same to the other.

Slowly moving back up, Harry kept one hand down there, rolling the other boy's bollocks around in one hand. In spite of the texture, they reminded Harry of two wingless Snitches, and he smiled as he silently awarded himself three hundred points for having caught Malfoy's Golden Snitches.

Taking the boy's cock back into his mouth, Harry began to bob up and down, hollowing his cheeks and speeding up his movements as Draco trembled and moaned. This time, Harry was determined not to embarrass himself by choking. He would swallow it all down without a single cough, even if it killed him.

"Harry!" Draco cried out, an edge of warning to his voice, and Harry pulled back to the tip just as Malfoy came, seeming to explode in Harry's mouth, who made a noise of surprise as warm liquid was suddenly coating his tongue, even though he had been expecting it. He managed to swallow the bitter liquid without choking, a feat that sent a strange sweep of pride rushing through him. He had barely even coughed that time, mentally congratulating himself on his progression from near-death the first time to one or two quiet coughs the second time. Lifting up, he gazed down at Draco, who was lying there with a glazed look in his eyes, face red and breaths heavy.

"Kiss me, Harry," Draco whispered, and Harry could not think of a single reason to refuse. He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to Malfoy's mouth, wanting to convey his feelings for Draco through the kiss, because yes, what he felt toward Malfoy really were real feelings, not just attraction. Harry was finally able to recognize them for what they were—this was far more than just physical, far more than just getting off with another person. Malfoy had somehow become Draco somewhere along the way and Harry was only just beginning to realize how much he wanted to be close to Draco.

Breaking the kiss, Harry turned to the chair with Draco's clothing on it and picked up the teen's black school robe, transfiguring it into a blanket and turning back to the blond. "Budge over," he said, poking Malfoy in the side, and Malfoy immediately complied, smiling when Harry climbed onto the table next to him and settled the blanket over them both before lying down on his side and throwing an arm over Malfoy's waist.

"You're incredible, Potter," Draco said quietly, copying Harry by turning onto his side and folding one arm under his head.

"I know," Harry smiled, "it's a Potter family trait, like black hair and near-sightedness. We can only be as incredible as we look, you know."

Malfoy laughed. "I'll definitely agree that you're a speccy git with black hair," his face softened as he stroked Harry's cheek with the back of one hand, "but certainly an incredible one."

"Aaaand…" Harry prodded, still smiling.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "And a good-looking one, I suppose," he sighed in a long-suffering tone.

"You suppose correctly," Harry said smugly, laughing as Draco pounced on him and seized his mouth in a kiss.

Only when oxygen was becoming a serious issue did he pull back, shifting lower and settling his head on Harry's chest, naked body curled tightly around Harry's clothed one, and Harry couldn't help but run his hand along the bare skin of Malfoy's waist and back, trailing along his shoulder and trickling down his arm.

"I can't believe you sucked me off on a table," Malfoy said out of nowhere, sounding amused. "You do realize that other students' study on this table, don't you?"

"Oh, please," Harry chuckled. "Do you really think we're the first students to do something like that in here? This school has been open what, a thousand years by now? And do you really think that blowjobs are the worst thing this poor table has most likely seen?"

"Point," Malfoy laughed, pressing a warm kiss to Harry's chest. "It did get to see my naked arse, and we both know that's the best thing it has and will ever see, so I suppose the table hasn't suffered too much."

"Lucky table," Harry grinned, tightening his hold on the blond in his arms. The feeling of holding Draco like this, curled into him and held so securely against his side, head pillowed so trustingly atop Harry's chest, listening to Draco laugh and seeing him smile at Harry so fondly…it made his chest feel hot and his heart constrict, and Harry knew that he would never ever, as long as he lived, ever forget that night—the night he realized how absolutely fucking crazy he was for Draco Malfoy.

**TBC**


	4. Between Draco and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Internet! Just a few quick warnings and then we can begin :)
> 
> WARNING: EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF DRAMA IN THIS CHAPTER. ALSO, ANOTHER NON-CON TRIGGER WARNING REGARDING RESTRAINT, ASSAULT, AND MINOR VIOLENCE. ALSO, A FINAL WARNING ABOUT EMOTIONAL CONFLICTION. Okay, warnings over! Shit's 'bout to start getting real, my friends! Muthafuckin' real. Let's do this.

"But where the hell are the psychos even _getting_ them from?" Harry demanded, laying his head down on the dining table and huffing angrily. "I mean, are there no age restrictions for something like this? Are sodding _children_ really able to buy something as disgusting and dangerous as a goddamn love potion without any consequences?"

"She'll face consequences, Harry," Hermione's voice spoke somewhere above him, accompanied by a pat on the head, and he sat up to glare at her.

"Yeah, a month's detention and fifty House points. Those are hardly the consequences I want to see."

"This is her second attempt," Hermione soothed, patting his hand now that his head was out of reach. "McGonagall said the punishment this time will be much worse."

"Hopefully Azkaban worse," Harry grumbled, glaring down at his plate. " _Thirteen years old!_ Who the hell _raised_ these little psychos? I mean, I had a horrible upbringing and I was certainly never trying to drug someone at that age! It never even would have occurred to me to drug someone! Ever! Who the hell even _thinks_ of that?"

"Well," Hermione began thoughtfully, "I would say a big part of the reason they tend to be popular, especially amongst the younger crowd, is the way that love potions have always been romanticized throughout the wizarding world. I mean, look at the name, for one. _Love_ potions, not infatuation or lust or enslavement or obsession or anything far more accurate. It lends a certain air to the idea that the potion isn't truly enslaving another person so much as encouraging them to fall in love, which it's not. It's creating false intimacy and a dangerous passion within a person who clearly never felt either of those things for the brewer if the brewer is resorting to using such a thing, and I absolutely agree that the potion should be outlawed."

" _Thirteen_ ," Harry bemoaned, wishing for the hundred-thousand-millionth time that he could be someone other than himself. "Seriously, I ask you again, what the hell kind of deranged little perverts do we go to school with?"

"The young kind, apparently," Ron piped up across from him.

"More like the disgusting kind," Harry muttered. "None of the students who've tried dosing me have even attempted asking me out or even approaching me first! They just go straight to the potion! Is it like a self-esteem thing for all of them? Or do they really all realize what maniacs they are and know that there's no chance anyone would ever willingly choose to be with someone as freaky and fanatical and psychotic as them?"

"Er, the second one?" Ron shrugged. "Maybe both? Who knows, mate."

"I wish I did," Harry muttered. "But seriously, where the hell are all these nutters getting the bloody potions? Have they all been brewing them? Aren't love potions meant to be advanced? We didn't learn about them until sixth year! And these are all third and fourth years trying! Is your brother responsible for this? Is he the one selling it to all of them?" Harry demanded, turning to Ron. "I fund his entire bloody shop and he's responsible for nearly getting me mind-raped into lusting after a hundred different perverted children!"

Ron sniggered, but the amusement faded instantly away at the twin glares he received from Harry and Hermione. "No, it's not George," he said in an honest-sounding voice. "Trust me, I've asked. He even sent me a copy of his sales records. He keeps pretty strict track of things like love potions being sold, especially to anyone student-aged, because of the legal risks involved. Technically, you could choose to press charges against everyone who's tried, if you really wanted to." Harry instantly opened his mouth, intent on doing that right that very moment, but Ron continued speaking. "It'd be insanely expensive though, you realize, to press charges against all of them. It's not cheap to take someone before the Wizengamot, and it probably wouldn't even be addressed in court until after school has already ended. Plus, there's the fact that most of the charges wouldn't actually hold up since none of the little snots were successful."

"Well, that's just stupid," Harry mumbled angrily. "Stupid legal system. I can press charges against someone trying to give me a potion that's still somehow legal to buy and sell and brew? Why is the buying of it legal but the use of it is cause enough to press charges? What the hell do people think the buyers are going to do with the potion, stare at it?"

"The world's an imperfect place," Ron shrugged. "Hermione can add that to her list of things she wants to change once she's taken over the Ministry one day."

"I'm hardly planning on taking over the Ministry," Hermione said dryly. "It didn't really end up too well for the last person to try."

"Eh, all right then," Ron chuckled, "maybe not take over. But I do know that you want to go into some sort of career where you spend all your time standing up for those who can't stand for themselves and righting wrongs and changing archaic laws and fighting injustices all day and all that selfless sort of rot."

She huffed a laugh. "How well you know me, Ronald Weasley. I'll add love potions to the list of archaic legalities I intend to abolish, then."

"Well, there you go, Harry!" Ron said happily, "You have Hermione on your side now! Only a matter of time now before she gets them outlawed just for you."

Harry felt as if his face might freeze in a permanent glare. "How the hell does that help me _now_? All the attempts at drugging me are happening _now_! I can't wait for the future! And that's probably going to take a hundred goddamn years to get pushed through, you know how the Ministry works!"

"Hey, just trying to cheer you up, mate," Ron said with a shrug, sipping at his pumpkin juice.

"Seriously, though," Harry turned back to Hermione, his only true friend he could count on in his time of immense suffering, "if they're not getting it from George, they have to be getting it from someone! There's no way these little shits are brewing it themselves! It's way too advanced and they are way too unbalanced, they have to be buying it _somewhere_."

"I've been wondering that myself," Hermione frowned, tucking a thick lock of hair behind one ear. "I asked McGonagall if I could keep a sample from this latest potion; I'm hoping I can match it up to at least one of the others and see if it's from the same source."

"Do you have any of the others?" Harry asked excitedly, wanting to kiss Hermione's brilliant brain for its absolute beautiful, kissable brilliance.

"No, I don't," she said apologetically, and Harry frowned as he took back every lovely thought he had about Hermione's brilliance and kissing her brain.

"Well, fuck," he sighed, trying to resign himself to a lifetime of having to check every single thing he ate or drank for evil slavery potions designed to evilly enslave him against his will.

"But I do have this latest attempt, Harry, and the next time it happens I'll be able to test them against one another. If they were brewed from the same batch, it's a pretty safe bet to assume that they were bought from the same supplier."

"Well isn't that just the worst dilemma ever for him?" Ron snorted. "You want to find out who it is selling the potions, yeah? But the only way to find out is for another student to try and slip you one. Stay on your toes, Harry, that's my advice. Never know where the next one's gonna come from."

"Uuuggghhh," Harry groaned, drawing out the sound as he hung his head. "Why am I the only one this is happening to? McGonagall said that nobody so far has made a single attempt to potion anybody else! So it's not like it's just some new craze sweeping through the impressionable nutters of the school. These lunatics are all specifically targeting _me_! Why am I _still_ a target for evil? Why is danger always coming for me like this? Why does my life have to keep sucking dragon dick like this?"

Ron snorted again at the last question. "You have a point. You think you would've earned enough good karma by now for an entire lifetime."

"Exactly!" Harry agreed vehemently. "Tell that to the universe! It's bloody out of touch with itself!"

Ron chuckled as he took another bite of his dinner. "I'll get right on that," he said in amusement.

"Well, do it before another four-foot human decides to try again to make me into some sort of love slave."

"Why don't you just tell everyone who you _have_ become a love slave for, hmm?" Ron suggested, grinning as he took another bite.

A blush spread across Harry's face and he ducked his head, biting his lip on a sudden smile as he thought back over the past three days. It had been three days since Harry and Malfoy had made up, and every day seemed to be going better than the last. "How do you know he's not _my_ love slave?" Harry asked, flushing even harder as Ron laughed.

"Eh, all right, _mutual_ love slaves, is that better?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something, actually, Harry," Hermione interrupted, sounding serious, and Harry frowned and nodded hesitantly. "Please don't take offense at this because you know I only have your best interests at heart, but…do you think there's any way, even the smallest possibility, that Malfoy might have managed to somehow drug you with a love potion?"

"What?" Harry gaped, nearly reeling from the question. "Of course not! That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "He approaches you out of nowhere one night, saying that the time was right to talk to you, and then kisses you with no warning, without any fear of rejection. From what you told us, it didn't seem like rejection had ever even crossed his mind as a possibility. What if that was because he knew you were already under the influence of a potion? What if that was what he meant by saying the time was right? What if everything you've felt so far has been magically induced?"

"No," Harry said slowly, shaking his head. "No, that—that can't be true. It _can't_. I mean, I would know, wouldn't I? I would definitely know if I were under a potion!"

"No, Harry," she said in a soft, careful voice, "you wouldn't. That's the whole point of these types of potions; the drinker truly does believe it's all real, they refuse to accept that their feelings are not their own."

"But, then…" Harry searched desperately for an argument. No, he knew what he felt! "Wouldn't either of _you_ have noticed? When Ron ate those spiked chocolates in sixth year, I knew immediately that there was something wrong with him! He was acting like a loony! I haven't been acting like he was!"

"Urgh, don't remind me," Ron shuddered.

"Well," Hermione said, still speaking in that same careful tone, "those chocolates had been in your trunk for months and love potions tend to get stronger and more potent the longer they're left to sit. And there are different strengths and levels of love potion, as well. Maybe you're under a weaker one, a sort of watered-down one designed to nudge you more into the attraction rather than shove you straight into obsession. But one that is still controlling how you feel about Malfoy."

"No," Harry said firmly. "No, Hermione, you're wrong. Draco wouldn't do that, I know he wouldn't."

"Harry, look at yourself," she sighed in exasperation, "you're calling him Draco, you're sneaking around at all hours of the night to meet him, you're forgiving him for everything and trusting him before you even have reason to, and you're refusing to even admit that there might be the slightest possibility that I'm right. You're acting…well, frankly, you're acting completely infatuated, which is what this potion _does_. You talk about him all the time and even when you're not talking about him, I can tell that you're thinking about him. Your eyes glaze over and you get this distant look on your face and it's like you completely vanish into your own thoughts of him."

"So?" Harry demanded, refusing to believe her at the same time he was unable to deny any of what Hermione had said so far. "Isn't that what everyone who fancies someone is like at first? All any of that means is that I want to be with him, there's nothing wrong with that and there's definitely nothing suspicious about that! If it was some stranger whom I'd never met before and who was five years younger than me that you were talking about, then I would see your point. But _you_ listed the reasons my liking Draco made sense _yourself_ in the dorm the other day! You can't give me a whole list of reasons to convince me I might just fancy Draco and then turn around and tell me there are no real reasons because it's just the result of a potion he gave me!"

"I'm just worried, Harry," she said quietly, staring at him with something that Harry did not want to admit to himself was sympathy. Christ, she really thought he had no mind of his own, didn't she?

"Well, don't be," he snapped. "I'm _fine_. I'm more than fine, I'm _happy_! And you should be happy _for_ me, not trying to convince me that none of it is real! You're supposed to be my friend, Hermione, you're supposed to want me to be happy! Why are you trying to take this away from me?!"

"I'm not!" She sounded offended and Harry hmphed as he crossed his arms. "Harry, we are friends! We've been friends for years and I love you, you know that! But the more adamant you get about refusing the possibility, the more likely it is that you really are under the influence of a love potion, don't you see? You've barely even started seeing Malfoy and look at how you're acting about him! You're sitting there accusing me of trying to destroy your relationship on purpose when you should know that I would never, ever do something like that! Are you really saying that you trust _Draco Malfoy_ more than you trust _me_? You and I have been through everything together, and you and Malfoy have only recently started even _speaking_ to one another!"

Harry glared down at the table, arms still crossed. "I know what I feel, Hermione," he said tightly. "If I can throw off the Imperius curse and recognize being under it, even when it's being cast by fucking _Voldemort_ , I think I would be able to recognize something like the influence of a student-made love potion. You're only saying any of this because it's Draco! If it was some other bloke I started seeing, like Seamus or Dean, you wouldn't be sitting there trying so hard to convince me that none of it was real!"

"Harry," Ron interrupted, frowning at him. "She's just worried about you. There's nothing wrong with being cautious, you know. Just go to Pomfrey and get yourself checked out. If there is no potion, then getting checked out can't do any harm, can it?"

"It can if Draco finds out about it!" Harry snapped. "How would you feel if the person you were seeing went behind your back to get themselves tested for some sort of suggestibility potion because you suspect them of slipping you something? Especially something as awful as a love potion? What if I do it and he finds out that I have zero trust in him because I suspect that he's secretly drugging me and that I think my own feelings for him aren't even real? He's already insecure enough about my feelings and our relationship, and I don't need something like this destroying everything we've been trying so hard to build between us. I won't let something like your own paranoia get in the way of my relationship. Not after it's taken him and me so long to finally get to this point! So I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're wrong, I'm not being influenced to do anything, especially anything to do with Draco!" Standing, he huffed down at the two of them. "I'll see you guys later, I can't be here anymore."

And turning away, he strode quickly from the room, feeling angry and frustrated and confused, wondering why exactly he had gotten so furious. But damn it, Hermione's fear was just plain ridiculous! Harry was _clearly_ not under any sort of potion or spell, he knew he wasn't!

But even as he firmly agreed with himself, he could feel a tiny seed of doubt bury itself somewhere deep in his mind, somewhere deep and dark and unreachable, and Harry knew that if it was allowed to germinate, it would only fester as it grew, rotting his happiness away as it spread its tendrils through his entire mind, and it would not stop until it had consumed every ounce of joy he had once felt at the thought of Draco. How could Hermione, his very own best friend, be the one to shove that seed into Harry's mind and convince it to take root?

"Harry?" a voice spoke up behind him, and Harry turned to see Draco standing several meters away, staring at him cautiously, and Harry realized that he had both hands buried in his black hair, glaring at the wall as he paced before a bare stretch of stone. It was also possible that he had been muttering into the empty air like an insane creep, but Harry didn't like being thought of as an insane creep, even by himself, and promptly banished the realization of his talking to himself from his mind. If he just ignored it, it had probably never happened.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy asked cautiously, taking a step closer, and Harry nodded, a single sharp, jerky movement. "You don't look okay, Harry," Malfoy said, slowly edging closer. "You looked really angry when you left the Great Hall just now, what happened?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered, unsure what he should now do or say to Malfoy, unsure how to act around him or speak to him. God, Hermione really had ruined everything! What if Harry could never trust Malfoy ever again because of this, even when Harry _knew_ that none of her suspicions were real?!

"It doesn't look like noth—"

"Do you fancy me?" Harry interrupted, cutting the other boy off.

"Of course," Draco frowned, sounding bewildered. "You know I fancy you, I've told you a million times."

"But how much do you fancy me?" Harry pressed. "What would you be willing to do to be with me?"

"Erm…" Malfoy sounded even more puzzled. "Well, I fancy you more than anything, you know that. I _really_ fancy you, Harry. And of course I would be willing to do anything to be with you."

Harry sighed. "Okay, maybe a better question is what would you _not_ be willing to do to be with me? Where would you draw the line for what you would be willing to do?"

"I…" Malfoy looked utterly baffled. "I'm not sure that I understand the question. I'm not sure if there isn't anything I wouldn't be willing to do. I mean, are you looking for me to say that I wouldn't be willing to slaughter an innocent person or something?"

"Not really," Harry sighed again. "I—I mean…" Sighing once more in frustration, Harry gave up speaking and strode forward to tug Draco in close for a kiss, the most intense one they had shared yet. Harry poured every muddled, murky emotion he was feeling into it, channeling every ounce of doubt and frustration into the kiss, refusing to let up or pull away. Malfoy was surprised at first but quickly melted into it, pulling Harry in even tighter against his body.

Finally, after an entire century of somehow surviving without oxygen, Harry pulled back an inch, gaze flicking between Draco's eyes and his mouth. "You wouldn't, would you?" Harry whispered. "I know you wouldn't—you _didn't_. I know you didn't, Draco."

"Didn't what?" the blond whispered back, clutching at Harry as though terrified of letting go.

"Nothing," Harry shook his head.

"Tell me," Draco breathed. "Is this to do with the argument you got in with your friends when you stormed out of the Great Hall?"

Feeling uncertain, Harry nodded.

"Tell me, Harry," Malfoy said in a firmer voice. "Tell me what you know I didn't do."

"Well, there was this girl…" Harry began hesitantly, feeling Malfoy tense in his arms.

"A girl?" he asked, voice now flat. "Who, pray tell, was this girl?"

"She's a Hufflepuff," Harry spoke slowly, still not at all sure if he should be telling Malfoy any of this. But Hermione's words would not stop ringing in his head, bouncing around his skull in aggravating, echoing ricochets, every single one reminding him of the awful seed of doubt that he knew would only grow unmanageably large given enough time. "A Hufflepuff third-year. She…"

"What did she do?" Malfoy's voice was calm but Harry could see lightning in his grey eyes, making them seem like two angry storm clouds embedded in a pretty, porcelain face.

"She, er…" Harry felt so embarrassed to have to admit to something like this. "She tried to slip me a love potion today. For the second time. She tried to Disillusion it and levitate it into my pumpkin juice, but of course, Hermione saw the bottle and saw the girl at the next table pointing her wand at it, and she knew exactly what was happening."

"She did _what?_ " Malfoy whispered dangerously, eyes narrowing. "Who is this girl, Harry? Tell me!"

"It's not important," Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, it's really not an uncommon occurrence at this point."

"How many fucking times has something like this happened?" Malfoy demanded, sounding upset. "Who else has tried to do this to you? Tell me, Harry, so I can find them! How fucking _dare_ they!"

"You sound so upset about it," Harry breathed, feeling relief course through him at the obvious anger in Malfoy's every word. If Draco was that furious at the thought of someone attempting to slip Harry a love potion, then surely that meant that there was no way the blond would ever have done that very same thing himself. Right?

_Unless he's just upset because it might counter the effects of his own love potion_ , a nasty voice whispered in the back of Harry's mind, and Harry did his best to mentally strangle the stupid voice into silence.

"Of course I'm upset about it!" Malfoy said incredulously. "How the hell could I not be? You're telling me that other students attempting to potion you without your knowledge is a common enough occurrence for you to speak so casually to me about it, and then get surprised when I get upset? Did somebody slip you a moron potion as well?"

"So, you didn't then," Harry said in relief, resting his forehead against Malfoy's and clinging to his shoulders. "Oh, thank god, I knew it, I _told_ her!"

"Didn't what?" Draco asked coolly, pulling back. "Are you saying that you think I might possibly be one of the ones you're talking about? Are you—" he wrenched himself from Harry's arms, "Are you standing there telling me that you think I've been secretly _dosing_ you without your knowledge? You think—" he broke off to laugh, an edge of hysteria to the sound that sent chills down Harry's spine, "you think I've somehow been the one student successful in slipping you a love potion. You don't even trust your own feelings when it comes to me; you don't think any of this is real!"

"No, Draco, that's not true!" Harry insisted, trying to pull the angry blond back into his arms, but Malfoy continued backing up, glaring fiercely. "No, it was Hermione who was spouting that insane bollocks! I told her there was no way you would ever do that and that I know what it is I feel! I _told_ her, Draco! She was the one who said it, not me!"

"But you're the one that believes it," Draco whispered, face twisted in hurt and rage. "You're the one who just brought it up. Did you even hear the sound of relief in your own voice when you realized how angry I was at the very thought of you being drugged like that?"

"No, Draco, I didn't believe it! I don't!" Oh, god, Harry had known this would happen! He had known exactly how Malfoy would react when he found out about Harry's stupid suspicions. Why had Harry allowed Hermione to get inside his mind like that? Why had he ever allowed her to plant the doubt he had _known_ was not true?

"But you did," Draco glared, "you _do_. There's a part of you that did, some part of you that still thinks there's a chance I might just be guilty."

"No!" Harry argued, needing Draco to believe him as much as he needed to believe in Draco. "No, Hermione and Ron told me to get myself checked and I told them that there was no way I would do that because I trust you! I know that you would never do something like that to me, Draco, I _know_ you wouldn't!"

"Prove it," Draco said in a low voice, and Harry tilted his head in confusion.

"Prove it?" he echoed, wondering what exactly Malfoy meant by that.

"Yes, prove it. Prove that you have no doubts. Prove to me that your feelings are real."

"But I don't…I have no idea what you mean, though, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, wondering how he could prove such a thing.

Without warning, the world suddenly started moving, everything spinning sickeningly as Harry felt something hard hit his back. When the world stopped twirling and everything fell still, Harry looked up to realize that Malfoy had grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, slamming him up against the stone wall of the corridor and pinning his arms tightly to his sides.

"Malfoy…" Harry said in a low uncertain voice, not at all liking the new position or the steel glint in Draco's eyes.

"Prove it, Harry," the blond growled, tightening his hold on Harry's arms until Harry was sure he would have bruises. "Prove it. Look me in the eye and tell me, right now, that you harbor absolutely no doubts about either your feelings for me or the validity of our relationship."

"Get off me, Malfoy," Harry whispered, feeling the familiar fingers of panic begin to creep down his throat and into his stomach, spreading outward through his limbs until even his skin felt like it was tingling with budding fear. "Get off me right now. Please."

"Tell. Me," Malfoy grit out, leaning in even closer, and Harry turned his head away, trying to keep his breaths level as he fought the urge to physically fight his way free.

"Let me go," Harry warned, trying to raise his arms high enough to shove at Draco's chest, but they were pinned tightly to the wall and he could not move them. _Oh, god, oh fuck_ , he thought, clenching his eyes shut tight and feeling a hot rubber band wrap around his chest, squeezing the breath straight from his lungs. _Oh god, I can't breathe!_ His breaths began to come faster and his eyes snapped open as he realized that the darkness of his lids was only adding to his panic. He couldn't be unable to breathe _and_ be lost somewhere in the dark, even if it was only the darkness of his own eyelids. He struggled again to move, thrashing against the wall and trying desperately to break Malfoy's iron grip on him. "Fuck, Malfoy, _let me go!"_

"Not until you say it," Malfoy ground out, shifting even closer, and Harry felt his eyes grow hot as the hallway seemed to swim before him.

"Please, Draco! Fuck, I can't breathe! Just—just let me go and we can talk about this!"

"Not until you say it, Harry," Malfoy said dangerously, squeezing _even tighter_ , and Harry felt the band on his chest constrict further in response. "Not until you say it and I believe it."

"You promised you wouldn't do this again!" Harry cried, bucking against the wall as he tried to throw Malfoy off, but Draco was far stronger than he looked.

"And you promised that your feelings for me were genuine!" Malfoy snapped, glaring even harder. "I don't care if you refuse to say it aloud, I'll make you admit it!"

And before Harry even had time to wonder what those horrid words meant, Malfoy leant forward and captured his mouth in a deep, punishing kiss, ravaging Harry's mouth with an anger that Harry had never before been kissed with. It was nothing but pure fury and possession, sucking what little air Harry had inside his lungs straight up through his throat, and Harry began to grow dizzy as he struggled to breathe, his mind telling him that he was trapped, he was trapped somewhere airless and tiny with no hope of escape, somewhere he would surely suffocate to death in.

He whimpered and thrashed, trying to escape the kiss but Malfoy refused, pressing in even harder and biting at Harry's lips. Finally, after what felt like years, just when Harry truly was feeling only a second away from fainting from the lack of oxygen, he was able to wrench his head far enough to the side to break the kiss.

But Malfoy still did not release him. "You're mine, Potter," he growled, sucking and biting harsh kisses across Harry's throat. "You're fucking mine and you fucking gave yourself to me and I certainly did not need to use a bloody potion to obtain you."

" _Obtain_ me?" Harry rasped, feeling fury mix in with the panic still pumping through his veins with every hammering beat of his frantic heart. "Fuck you, Malfoy, I'm not yours and you sure as hell didn't _obtain_ me!"

"Tell me you're mine and I'll let you go," Malfoy whispered, licking a long stripe up his neck, and Harry felt an unpleasant shiver race down his spine.

"No," he said in a shaky voice, trying to twist his neck out of the reach of Malfoy's tongue and teeth. "I'm _not_ yours, Malfoy! And you sure as hell did not _obtain_ me! Now get the fuck off me right now before I fucking make you!"

"You're not the one in charge here, Potter," Malfoy growled, biting down harshly on the skin between Harry's neck and shoulder, and he cried out in pain and surprise. "I've already told you what to do if you want free."

And at that, Harry saw red. The world was shaking before his burning, furious eyes, panic and rage surging through him with every hammering, deafening beat of his white-hot heart. As Draco lifted his head and leaned in closer, most likely to try to kiss the life from him again, Harry snapped his head forward, catching Malfoy by surprise as the blow caught him across the brow, a throbbing pain spreading through Harry's forehead at the point of contact. The blow was hard enough to make Draco stumble back a step, and Harry felt the other boy's hold on him loosen.

The moment Harry felt Malfoy's grip slacken, he wrenched his arms free and shoved at Malfoy as hard as he could, sending him reeling back and nearly falling over, a nasty bruise already forming over one brow as he stared at Harry in shock.

Fumbling in his pocket, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at Malfoy's face, his hand shaking as his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.

"Harry," Malfoy whispered, a horrified look crossing his face. "Oh my god, Harry…I-I didn't…oh, god, I'm _sorry_ …!"

"You promised," Harry said, the two words trembling nearly as much as his limbs. "You promised that nothing like that would ever happen again. Fuck, Draco! What the fuck is the matter with you?!"

"Harry, no!" Draco cried, wringing his hands together. "No, I don't know what just happened! That wasn't—I didn't—I would never have—"

"Yeah, because I stopped you!" Harry shouted, and Draco jumped as a nearby window cracked. "What the fuck were you planning on doing, Malfoy?! How fucking far were you planning on taking that?!" A cold, hysterical laugh escaped the brunet. "And this all happened because you thought I was imagining reasons not to trust you! Well, congratulations, because now I really don't." Tears prickled hotly in Harry's eyes, his heart still hammering within his chest and his hands still shaking. "Don't ever come near me again, do you understand me? I don't ever want to speak to you again."

"No, Harry, please!" Malfoy wept, and Harry was shocked to see a tear slide down his cheek. "Please, you have to believe me, I don't know what just happened! It was like this…this blinding rage that I couldn't even breathe through! I wasn't even aware of what I was doing until—"

"Oh, well isn't that just fucking convenient," Harry snarled, shaking his head in disgust. "None of that was _your_ fault, it was just your own anger and stupid fucking insecurity that's to blame, hmm? Don't you dare give me any excuses right now, Malfoy, not one single goddamn excuse, do you hear me?!"

"Harry," Malfoy whispered, grey eyes shining with tears, and Harry felt his hand shake even harder, holding his wand in a grip tight enough to hurt as it hung trembling in the air between them.

"I mean it, Malfoy," Harry said in a low anguished voice, "don't ever come near me again. Whatever this was that was happening between us, it just ended right here in this corridor. Don't even look in my direction anymore, do you understand me?"

"Please, Harry, just—just let me—Harry, please, just let me—"

"Don't you dare follow me," Harry said coldly, unwilling to listen to the other boy's words any longer. He had to get out of there. He had to get out of there right now. He could still feel panic rushing through him, could still feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, and he knew he was only seconds away from falling apart completely.

Praying to god that Malfoy would have the good sense not to try to force another confrontation, Harry turned and fled, deciding that the House stereotypes could go fuck themselves and even Gryffindors were allowed to run from such horrible situations. He turned a corner and ducked down a secret passage, racing down a side corridor and through a short hallway hidden behind a tapestry, until he was gasping for breath and could run no more. He leaned against the wall as he panted heavily, chest throbbing and head pounding as he tried to hold himself up on weak legs made of rubber.

Deciding that standing could also go fuck itself, Harry sank to the floor and curled into a tight ball, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them as he wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to draw even breaths. Without warning, something seemed to snap inside him and before he could stop them, sobs were wrenching their way free from his throat and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Agonized confusion was scalding through every inch of him, burning Harry up from the inside out, as though somebody had replaced all the blood in his veins with lava and molten fire. What had just happened? How had everything gone so horrifyingly pear-shaped in such a short amount of time? What the hell had happened to Malfoy? That had not been the Draco that Harry knew!

But how well did Harry really know him? The Malfoy of the past had always been vicious and spiteful, but never like _that_. Even when Harry had hated him, he had never, ever been afraid of him. But the fear and panic were still searing through him, and he raised a trembling hand to his face to wipe the stupid tears away.

Well, at least the encounter had proven one thing—Harry had never been under the influence of a love potion. If he had been able to refuse Draco like that and been able to walk away from the blond, even telling him to never speak to him again, Harry clearly was not under any sort of magically-induced compulsion to be near the other boy. Hermione had been wrong about the potion but right about Harry not being able to trust him.

_So much for being absolutely crazy about him,_ Harry thought, the thought sending a jolt of sharp agony tearing through him and earning another sob. But the awful confusing thing was, Harry _was_ still crazy about him. Not the Malfoy from the corridor, that Malfoy had been terrifying and horrible, but the Draco from the boathouse; the Draco from the North Wing, the Draco who had whispered to Harry that he had always wanted him, always longed for him.

"Why the fuck did he have to ruin everything like that?" Harry muttered angrily, swiping at his cheeks with both hands in an attempt to erase every trace of what had happened. Sighing, he reached up one hand to rub at the stiffness in his neck only to grimace as his fingers pressed down on a particularly sore spot.

Conjuring a mirror, he held it up to his neck and gasped, staring blankly at the reflection of the large bite mark on the muscle between his neck and shoulder. It had broken skin and was red and angry-looking. Harry prodded at it with a gentle finger, wincing as it throbbed painfully, and he heard another sob rip its way free from his throat. He made a sharp, angry sound at the sight of the rest of his neck, covered in purple-and-red bruises from Malfoy's teeth and lips.

Hand trembling, Harry raised his wand to his throat and began spelling the bruises away, the process taking nearly a quarter of an hour from how hard his wand was shaking.

Harry did not move from that corridor for a very long time.

oOo

Harry woke the next morning with a stiff back and swollen eyes, his blankets twisted uncomfortably beneath him. His body ached but his mind felt completely numb, his insides a hollowed-out mess of blank emotions all swirling through him until they became utterly meaningless and almost nonsensical.

He still could not believe what had happened last night.

Sighing, he pulled back his curtains to discover bright sunlight pouring into the empty room. Checking the time, he was surprised to see that breakfast had long ended and that the first class of the day was nearly over.

_Well, fuck it then,_ he thought, coming to the firm conclusion that classes were stupid and school was horrible and Harry did not want to be around any other people, possibly ever again for the rest of his life. _Maybe I'll just become an Animagus and go live with my own animal-kind and never have to see another living person ever again for the rest of eternity._

The thought cheered Harry up somewhat until he remembered that people were everywhere, and he would hardly be able to escape them all when they insisted on crawling over every inch of the planet's face like bug-eyed insects. Larger bug-eyed insects than the normal bug-eyed insects crawling all over the planet, of course. Stupid annoying insects who seemed determined to assault Harry with either potions or their own hands, and he was sick to death of it all.

Groaning, he sat up and raked both hands through his hair roughly, deciding he better get moving before class ended and Ron came up here looking for him. He had most likely gone to class thinking that Harry would meet him there despite missing breakfast, but once he realized Harry was not actually in class, the brunet knew Ron would be back up to the dorm like a shot the first chance he had.

Tugging on a new set of clothes and his thick winter cloak, Harry slipped his feet into his boots and swung the Invisibility Cloak over himself, deciding the best thing for him would be to get out of the castle entirely. He paused long enough to grab some breakfast from the kitchens before heading out the doors and into the bright winter sunshine, golden rays smiling cheerfully down at everything in a way that annoyed Harry. Couldn't the sun see how miserable and gloomy the day should have been? The outside world should be matching everything Harry was feeling inside, and nothing about Harry's insides were bright or sunshiny. Harry supposed his insides were as cold as winter though, so he would grant nature that one, at least.

He spent the day wandering the forest in a daze, seeing the world through hollow eyes and wondering when his life would finally stop hurting so much.

oOo

"Harry."

An annoying voice was speaking above him. He tried to ignore it, burrowing his head even deeper into the warm pillow.

"Harry." The voice sounded exasperated now, and Harry shot a rude hand gesture over his shoulder, yelping when the pillow and blanket were suddenly tugged away and he was left cold and uncomfortable.

"What do you want?" Harry grumbled, still refusing to look up.

"Wake up already, Harry, for fuck's sake!" Ron sighed, shaking his shoulder. "Everyone else has already gone down to breakfast! And you can't miss two days of class in a row! Hermione will kill _me_ if that happens, not _you_. So for the sake of my own life, get your bloody arse out of this bed right now and get dressed!"

"I don't want to," Harry whined, cracking one eye open to peer blearily up at the redheaded blur standing over him, and Harry didn't need his glasses to make out the glare on Ron's face.

"What is going on with you, Harry?" he demanded, beginning to throw articles of clothing onto Harry's bed. "Hermione and I didn't see you at all yesterday! You didn't go to a single class or a single meal! I even broke into your trunk and looked for you on the Map during one of the breaks and you weren't anywhere on it! Did you leave the castle? What the hell is going on?!"

"I was still on the grounds," Harry muttered. "Sort of."

"What the hell does that mean, 'sort of'?"

"It means…" Harry sighed loudly, blowing the bangs from his eyes. "It means I spent the day in the Shrieking Shack, all right?"

"What?!"

If Harry had been capable of being amused, he would have laughed at how high-pitched Ron's voice had gone. _Sounds like a Muggle cartoon character._

"You went to the _Shack_ , Harry? _Why?!_ "

"Because," he shrugged, turning away from Ron. "I spent a while in the Forest and I got cold, so I decided to go to the Shack instead and I spent the rest of the day in there."

"That's not a reason though, Harry," Ron said, sounding confused and upset. "Why were you in the Forest in the first place? What the hell is going on? Are you still mad at us for dinner the other night?"

"No, I'm not mad at the two of you," Harry responded listlessly, still not making any sort of move to get changed. "I just didn't want to be in class, all right? And I didn't want to be in the castle either. I just needed time to myself, somewhere I could be all alone and think, all right?" Harry didn't add that after all his thinking, he still had no conclusions about anything in his life—probably even in the entire world.

"Think about what?" Ron sounded much more confused than upset now. "What happened?"

"Just…stuff. I don't want to talk about it."

"Shit, Harry, maybe you really should get checked out by Pomfrey." Ron sounded concerned now, but Harry didn't want his concern. He just wanted silence. "Something is clearly wrong with you. I mean, look at yourself!"

"I'm fine," Harry said hollowly.

"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically, "that's why you're still lying in bed refusing to get up, isn't it?"

"I'm a teenager, Ron," Harry pointed out, "that's practically what teenagers are known for."

"Not on sodding schooldays!"

Harry covered his head with his arms and groaned loudly. "God, fine! If I get up and come down to breakfast and go to stupid class, will you drop it and just accept the fact that I'm _fine_?"

"Maybe," Ron said, seeming to think it over. "I'm leaving it open for debate though. I'll give you my final verdict later."

"You're not the Wizengamot, you know," Harry glared, finally sitting up and beginning to get dressed, "you don't get to pass bloody verdicts on people."

"Eh," Ron shrugged, "they're not actually here right now, so I'm electing myself honorary Wizengamot or whatever. It's not even important, stop deflecting."

"I'm not deflecting, _you're_ deflecting," Harry muttered, jamming his feet into his shoes.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, real mature."

" _You're_ real mature," Harry shot back, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Ron raised an eyebrow at that as he led them from the dorm. "Really, Harry? We're gonna play that sort of game?"

" _You're_ gonna play that sort of game."

"Is this what you're going to be like all day?" the redhead asked in exasperation.

"It's what _you're_ going to be like—"

"Enough, already!" Ron shook his head, but Harry thought he saw his lips twitching.

" _You're_ enough already," Harry said beneath his breath, unable to stop now that he had begun.

"I'm the best-looking bloke in this school."

" _You're_ the best-looking bloke—" Harry cut himself off with a glare, the expression deepening as Ron laughed.

"Yeah, not such a fun game now, is it?" Ron grinned.

" _You're_ not such a fun game now," Harry muttered, feeling petulant. Ron gave him a look and Harry sighed. "Oh, all right, fine then."

They reached the Great Hall and Ron hurried them over to the Gryffindor table near the end, where Hermione sat across from Neville. They slid into seats and began serving themselves breakfast, Harry trying his hardest to ignore the burning gaze Hermione was raking over every inch of him. _Thank god for Neville,_ he thought fervently, knowing that Hermione would not accost him with concerns in the other boy's presence.

As Harry sipped at his tea and took small bites of egg, he couldn't help but glance up, eyes immediately searching out the Slytherin table, and he nearly dropped his fork in surprise. His heart started pounding furiously in his chest as his gaze locked on Draco, only to find the blond already staring at him with a look intense enough that Harry could almost see it in the air, could almost hear it slam into him, could almost feel it pierce his flesh.

But what really struck Harry was the expression on Malfoy's face. He looked absolutely agonized, his face crumpled in pained sorrow, misery and regret shining out from his eyes and cascading from every pore until he was nearly hidden behind a tangible wave of his own remorse.

The sight made something in Harry's stomach twist sharply and he dropped his gaze, unwilling to delve into how much the sight of Malfoy's regret made him feel. Damn it, Malfoy didn't get to feel regret. Harry was the one who should be feeling regret—regret for ever allowing the prat into his life.

But despite what happened, Harry couldn't regret it. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to regret what they had shared in the boathouse or the North Wing, even if it turned out that Malfoy really was an unbalanced lunatic. Even if it had only been for a short time, he had been _Harry's_ unbalanced lunatic—at least, up until Malfoy had allowed his lunacy to push him too far out of balance.

Dropping his gaze, Harry stared down at his plate and refused to look back up, refused to find out if Malfoy was still staring at him. He managed to swallow nearly half a piece of toast before pushing his plate away from himself. He was itching to get up right then and wander his lonely way to class as slowly as he could, but he knew that if he left the Great Hall without Ron and Hermione, Malfoy was sure to follow and sure to somehow corner him again.

After all, it was what the man did, wasn't it?

Finally, Ron and Hermione rose from the table, and it was with a sigh of relief that Harry trailed from the Hall behind them. And if he allowed his gaze to swing one more time to the Slytherin table and lock onto a burning pair of stone-grey eyes, well, nobody had to know but Harry, right?

**TBC**


	5. Miles Above the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! A couple of quick warnings before we begin! WARNING: PREPARE FOR A HOLY FUCKING CRAZY SHITSTORM OF DRAMA. ALSO, A TRIGGER WARNING FOR ATTEMPTED SELF-HARM.
> 
> Okay, the caps lock has officially been turned off and now we may begin!

The outside air was cold. Harry listened to the wind howl past the castle, shivering at the icy breeze as it whistled past him into the dark, empty room he had found himself in. He sat perched on the wide window ledge of the East Tower, the window thrown wide open as he gazed down into the distant darkness, the ground looking to be miles below him. He wasn't entirely sure why he had come to the East Tower; all he knew was that he could not sleep. His legs had felt twitchy and restless and the snores of his dormmates had been driving him mental. Without much thought, Harry had swung himself from bed and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, jamming shoes and socks on before slipping from the dorm and through the portrait hole.

Somehow, he had ended up in the East Tower, and he shivered again as another gust of wind blew past him. He still couldn't decide why it was that he had chosen to come to a place that reminded him of nothing but Draco, but his subconscious had picked it and his feet had led him here and now here he was like some sort of sick masochist, soaking in the pain of being in a place where Draco and Harry had shared such an intensity, where Draco had first confessed his feelings and where Harry had first actively and willingly returned his advances; it was the place where Draco had whispered that he had wanted Harry for so long and the place where Harry had felt his insides melt as Draco kissed him.

And now here he was only days later, in the same empty room by himself, cold and alone and sitting in the dark. Harry had thought that he would have had at least a bit more time before everything fell apart. Why did everything in his life have to always fall apart so spectacularly?

"Harry," a soft voice whispered from the darkness behind him, and Harry jerked around, nearly losing his balance as he startled violently. A pale shape emerged from the shadows, and Harry leapt down to face it, heart pounding wildly as Draco's recognizable blond hair came into sight.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked in bewilderment, heart only pounding more frantically at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to speak to you," Malfoy said quietly, shuffling forward into the dim light of the window-shaped night sky flooding the Tower in a large, neat square.

"Why?" Harry asked in a voice as cold as the winter wind outside. "How the hell did you even know I was here?"

"I…erm, well, I…" Malfoy paused, appearing awkward and sheepish, "I was waiting for you. Outside the Gryffindor common room. I wasn't sure if you were already inside or not, so I decided to wait. I was pretty sure I was going to end up having to sleep there, but then you came out and I guess you didn't see me. I…I followed you here."

"Why?" Harry asked again tightly, wondering if he should reach immediately for his wand or wait. "I already told you I didn't want to see you again, so what do you want?"

At his words and his tone, Malfoy flinched, and Harry felt bad for nearly a second until he remembered that between the two of them, he was not the one in the wrong.

"I need to talk to you," Malfoy whispered, voice suspiciously thick. "I need to see you, I-I can't explain it, Harry, but I _need_ to! I need to explain, I need to apologize!"

"You already did," Harry said in a voice like steel, "the first time this happened. Remember?"

Malfoy flinched again, nodding miserably. "Please, Harry," he pleaded, glancing up, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

Malfoy was crying. Actually crying. Tears were streaming down his blotchy cheeks and his eyes were red and swollen.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked weakly, voice sounding nearly as pained as Malfoy looked.

"I want you to call me Draco again," the blond whispered. "I want you to stop looking at me like you're scared of me. I want you to stop taking one step back for every step I take towards you."

Harry paused, glancing down at himself, and he realized that he was indeed much farther from where he had originally started out. He had not even been aware of backing away from the other boy.

Harry raised a trembling hand to his hair, wanting to close his eyes but afraid to remove his gaze from Malfoy. "Can you blame me for not wanting to be near you?"

At the question, Malfoy began to weep, startling Harry by falling to his knees and burying his face in his hands as he sobbed openly in the middle of the large room. "I'm sorry, Harry! I can't explain it! I didn't want to do that! I don't even know what I was doing! All I was aware of was that I needed you to reaffirm what we had; I didn't even realize until after what I had done!"

"How is that any better than being aware, though, Malfoy?" Harry's voice quivered as he watched Malfoy's entire frame shake from the force of his crying, head bowed nearly to the floor. "You still did it. Whether you were aware of it or not, it still happened. And it's the fact that it happened that has me so upset. I mean, I _told_ you! I told you things I've never told anyone else, not even Ron and Hermione!" Harry's voice echoed around the room and he quickly cast privacy wards around them. "I _told_ you why I couldn't handle something like that happening again, Malfoy, and you're the only person I've ever told those things to, because I wanted you to understand! I wanted you to know me! And you still…"

Malfoy was crying so hard Harry wasn't even sure if he was actually getting any oxygen to his lungs from the sobs and gasps he was making. "And I'm sorrier than I've ever been in my entire life," the blond choked out. "I know that what happened was awful and horrible and unforgivable and that I'm an awful, evil, disgusting person for what I did to you!"

Harry frowned. He had spent years thinking those very same things about Malfoy, especially over the past day, but…hearing those same words come out of Draco's mouth as he wept so bitterly on the cold hard floor…it made Harry's heart clench.

"Why did you ruin everything?" the brunet whispered in a voice as quiet as dust, but Harry could hear the loud anguish in every single syllable that fell from between his own lips. "Why did you have to—goddamnit, Malfoy, why did you have to destroy it like that? I liked you so much…I liked being with you so fucking much, and I really…I really thought that we might have had something between us, something _real_ …but now…"

Malfoy cried even harder. "It _was_ real!" he wept, "It _is_ real! Please, Harry! Please say that it's not too late to earn back your trust! I need you to trust me, and I need you to look at me like you used to! I feel like I'll die if I lose you! I feel like I'll die if I can't be near you! You have no idea how much you mean to me, and I'm sorry if that makes me act crazy and irrational at times, but I just…I care about you so much, _please_ believe me!"

"Damn it, Malfoy," Harry gasped, feeling icy tears of his own slowly streaking his face. "Damn it." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he swayed on his feet, feeling torn in so many different directions; he did not even know what emotions it was that were ripping him to shreds. He wanted nothing more than to go to Malfoy and gather him in his arms; he wanted to coax the other boy's head down on Harry's shoulder and kiss every tear from his pretty face. He wanted to run from the room and sprint all the way back to the safety of his dorm and hide from the entire world. He wanted to fling himself back in time to when he and Draco were getting along so well, when the world seemed such a bright place. He wanted Draco back more than anything, but was what Draco had done too much to move past? What if Harry took the chance of forgiving him only for that fragile trust to be shattered in such a horrifying way once again?

"I don't know what to do," Harry wept, feeling nearly dizzy from the force of the questions and the doubts and the thousand nameless emotions tearing through him like a cyclone, mangling his insides into a pained blood-red pulp tasting salty and bitter on Harry's tongue, matching the taste of the icy tears falling from his burning eyes—the temperatures a sharp contrast to one another as they slithered coldly down his numb face. "Damn it, I don't know what to do!"

"I swear, Harry!" Malfoy spoke in a quiet voice, breathless from the force of his tears. "I swear, on my _life_ , that I will never hurt you again! I promise! I'll swear on anything you want me to swear on! On my life, on my mother's life! I'll choose death before I'll ever choose hurting you! I love you, Harry!"

The words seemed to ring through the room like a bell, echoing through Harry's dazed skull and effectively freezing him in place as he stared, wide-eyed, at Draco. "What?" he whispered, certain he must have heard wrong. No, Malfoy couldn't have just confessed his love, he _couldn't_ have! Harry had to have imagined it, that just couldn't be possible! They had only been together for a few days, Malfoy couldn't love him! Harry felt a hysteria beginning to build within him, growing more and more fierce as Draco's head snapped up to look him in the eye, and Harry could not doubt the truth as they stared at one another.

There, in Draco's eyes…there could be no doubt—he loved Harry.

Harry was barely even aware of falling to his knees, only noticing a sharp pain as they connected with the hard floor. "What?" he asked, in a voice that he did not even recognize as his own.

"I love you, Harry," Draco repeated, "I love you so much."

"No, you don't," Harry argued in a watery voice, unable to accept that Draco could look at him with so much love in his eyes and yet still do what he had done in that corridor. "You can't."

"I do," Malfoy said earnestly, in a low, somber voice, "I can."

"No, you _can't_."

"I have for a long time." At the confession, Harry felt his heart stop in his chest. "I've loved you for what feels like my entire life, Harry. Whatever you want me to do to prove it, I'll do it. I'll do anything you want! Just—just please, tell me there's still something, anything that I can do to get you to trust me again!"

"I don't know, Draco." The whisper slipped from Harry's mouth to hang in the air between them like its own stale presence, musty and fetid and crumbling where it had faded into silence; all it did was remind Harry of the distance between the two boys. "I want to trust you again, I really, really do, but…but I just…I…"

"But you can't." The dull resignation in Malfoy's voice made Harry's head snap up in worry. The three words had been uttered in such a flat, lifeless tone…a tone that Harry did not like. A tone that set him instantly on edge. "I understand, Harry." He offered Harry a blank, vacant smile, the kind one sees painted on cold glass dolls propped up on display, empty and fragile and wide-eyed, sending a shiver through Harry at the sight as Draco began to pick himself up off his knees. Harry climbed to his feet as well and they stared at one another for one hundred and thirty-seven hammering heartbeats; Harry counted every single one.

"I really do love you, you know," Draco whispered, tears still shining on his porcelain doll face. "I've always loved you. And I'm sorry for everything I've done, I really am."

"Draco…" Harry said slowly, unsure of where Malfoy was going with his strange, stilted statements but not liking at all the way they sounded so final.

"Being with you…" Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "is the only time I've felt my life has ever made sense. It's the only time I can ever remember feeling truly happy."

"…Draco…"

"I love you, Harry." Draco gazed at him for several seconds, smiling a tiny, sad smile, before suddenly turning away and sprinting toward the open window.

And Harry felt his heart stop dead.

oOo

Time seemed to slow; every second felt like an eternity. Harry watched in horror as Malfoy ran, his body as graceful as a gazelle, taking one long step after another, face carved in a moue of determination as he headed right toward the window Harry had been sitting at earlier, the one that was still thrown wide open. Harry's feet finally caught up with his brain and began to move, chasing after the other boy desperately, praying that his stupid stone feet would be able to catch up to the blond in time. What the hell was Malfoy doing?!

"Draco!" he called frantically, still not close enough. "Draco, stop!"

At the sound of his name, Draco half-turned his head, slowing for nearly a second before continuing, but that single second was all Harry needed. Just as Draco reached the window ledge and started to scramble up it, Harry reached him, catching him by the collar of his robes and hearing Malfoy gasp as Harry wrenched him away from the window, the force of it slamming the blond down onto his back on the floor.

Malfoy lay there for several seconds, breathing heavily, before throwing himself to his feet and attempting to dive through the open window once more. Harry caught a handful of his robes and hauled him back, throwing him as far from the danger as he could before whipping out his wand and magically sealing every window in the large room shut.

Both boys stood staring at one another and panting, Draco's eyes darting several times to the window behind Harry, and the brunet felt a fierce rage begin to swell within him like a furious tidal wave, an entire tsunami of anger building and growing within him with every passing second.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you, Draco?!" he finally shouted, unable to remain quiet any longer. "What the goddamned FUCK was that?! What the fuck were you about to do?!"

"Remove myself from your life," the blond answered in a heavy voice, eyes still shining with tears and breaths still coming quickly. "And remove the misery from mine."

"Yeah, by _killing_ yourself?!" Harry was not sure if he could remember ever feeling so angry. What did Draco think he was playing at?!

"You don't want me anyway!" the blond shouted, taking a step forward, and Harry raised his wand in warning.

"Don't you dare take one step closer to that window," he growled.

"You don't want me anyway," Malfoy whispered, voice suddenly pained and quiet, and Harry felt his eyes prickle wetly.

"So you were just going to _kill_ yourself?" He could not keep the sound of tears from his voice as he gazed at Draco in utter incredulity. What the hell was wrong with Malfoy? Why would he do something so awful? And especially right in front of Harry like that!

"You don't get it, Harry!" Malfoy wept, turning away to hide his face. "If I can't be with you, then I'd rather be dead!"

"God _damn_ it, Draco!" Harry yelled, feeling anger and remorse and frustration and upset and pain and sorrow and regret and fury course through him from head to toe. "Don't you dare put your own actions on me like that! Are you—is this you trying to guilt me into forgiving you or something? Because that's not fair! Why would you _do_ that?!"

"No, Harry!" the blond shot back, glaring at him. "This is me telling you the truth! I'm not giving you an ultimatum, I'm just telling you how I feel! And how I feel is that life is not worth living if you hate me!"

"How the fuck is that not an ultimatum?!" Harry shouted furiously. "Either I take you back or you kill yourself! It doesn't matter how you fucking word it, that's the choice you're talking about!"

"I can't live knowing you hate me," Malfoy whispered, eyes searching Harry's face. "And I can't live knowing that I deserve that hatred."

"And I can't live knowing that you killed yourself because of me," Harry ground out. "We're going to the Hospital Wing right now. There is clearly something very wrong with you."

"No," Malfoy refused, crossing his arms.

"That wasn't a question," Harry growled, raising his wand higher, "You are a danger to yourself right now, Malfoy, and if I have to knock you out and drag you there, I will, whether it's with my wand or my own fucking fist!"

"Why do you even care?" Malfoy lifted his chin stubbornly. "You hate me! You shouldn't even care if I live or die! Nobody else does, so why can't you just go back to being one of them like you were two weeks ago!"

"I never said I hated you!" Harry cried, his head beginning to pound. "You keep saying that like it was something I've been screaming at you non-stop since the corridor the other day! I never said those words, Draco!"

At the statement, Malfoy paused, head tilted as he seemed to think back over everything that had occurred over the past two days. "All right, maybe you didn't say it in those words," he grudgingly allowed, eyes falling to the floor, "but you sure as hell were acting like it! I already told you—if I can't be with you, then I don't want to live!"

"And I told _you_ that you can't put that decision on me! We've only been involved for a few days, for Christ's sake!"

Malfoy laughed hysterically. "It's not a decision to be made, Harry, it's not a decision I'm asking for! I'm just telling you the facts! And the fact is that if I cannot be with you, I refuse to be alive! You were the only thing that has ever given my life meaning and I will not be without it again, not after knowing what it feels like to have a purpose! You were everything I woke up for in the morning, and I refuse to face another morning without you in it!"

"Stupefy," Harry whispered.

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as the jet of light hit him squarely in the chest, the shock never leaving his face as he fell. Blinking rapidly for several moments, Harry took a second to collect himself before walking quietly to Malfoy's side and dropping to his knees. He reached out one shaking hand to stroke the hair from Draco's forehead, studying his unconscious porcelain features in the dim light of the moon.

"Why, Draco?" Harry asked softly, feeling the tears streaking his face. "Why do you have to keep doing these insane things? What is going on with you? What the hell is the matter with you?" A sob wrenched its way free from his throat. "I never said I hated you!"

Gathering the unconscious boy in his arms, Harry held him for long minutes, rocking him back and forth as he wept into his hair. "I don't hate you, I never said that! Damn it, Draco, why would you…" Pulling back, he pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead and buried his nose in the strands of Draco's hair, shining like silver in the cold moonlight. After an entire century of holding Draco and trying his best to collect himself, Harry sighed. A feather-light charm was cast on Malfoy, and Harry scooped him up into his arms as he rose to his feet and began to slowly make his way from the room. He supposed he could have levitated Malfoy, but Harry wanted to carry him to the Hospital Wing himself, wanted those last few minutes of holding Draco in his arms and cradling him to his chest; all Harry wanted was to keep him safe.

But how could Harry ever keep Draco safe if the danger came from Draco himself?

oOo

"Tell me again how it happened," Madam Pomfrey ordered, bending down to check Malfoy's pulse.

"We were up in the East Tower," Harry heard himself say in a faraway voice, feeling hollow and numb. When he had first shown up at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey had not been happy to be woken, but had immediately rushed to help Harry get Malfoy onto a bed the moment she spotted the unconscious boy in Harry's arms. "We were talking. He was acting…I've never seen him like that before. He was so upset, he wouldn't stop crying. And then…" Harry's voice lowered to a whisper, breath catching as he recalled the terror of watching Draco run for the open window like that, "then he just…he ran for the window and tried to jump through it. And I grabbed him and threw him back and then he tried _again_ and I sealed all the windows and Stupefied him and brought him here."

"He attempted to jump through the window just like that?" Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Did he say why?"

At the question, Harry felt himself blush as he dropped his gaze down to the floor. "Er, yes, actually. He was…I wouldn't…he had said that…" Harry took a deep breath, trying to force down both his shame and his embarrassment; it was important that he was honest with Madam Pomfrey about everything, for Draco's sake. "He—he told me that if he couldn't be with me, then he didn't want to be alive. And then he just…" Harry heard himself gasp, "he just tried to jump. Just like that, without any warning. He almost…" The words trailed off into a sob. "He—he almost…"

Madam Pomfrey appeared surprised, but she patted Harry's shoulder in comfort as she steered him into the nearest chair. "It's okay, Harry," she said soothingly, turning to rummage through a large cabinet and coming back with a vial of liquid. "It's a Calming Draught," she explained, handing it to him. "Drink it."

Nodding jerkily, Harry threw the contents into his mouth and swallowed, shutting his eyes as he felt the hammering of his heart gradually beginning to slow.

"Now," she said kindly, pulling up a chair of her own and facing Harry with a serious expression. "I need you to be honest with me, Harry, about everything, all right? Even if it's difficult to speak about. I need to know exactly what happened."

Harry nodded again, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the floor.

"Now, when you say that he said he did not want to live if he could not be with you, in what way do you mean, exactly?"

"Er…" a blush spread across Harry's face, and he kept it ducked out of sight, "in—in a romantic way, I s'pose."

"And was this the first time he had approached you about something like this?"

"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head. "No, by this point we were already involved."

Glancing up, he saw Madam Pomfrey nod her head in understanding, and Harry was relieved to see not a single ounce of judgement on her matronly face. "All right," she said softly, keeping her voice low. "That's perfectly all right, Harry. I take it, however, that you were no longer together at the time of the incident?"

Another sob tore itself from his throat as he shook his head.

"Shh," Pomfrey comforted, rubbing his shoulder as he cried. "It's okay, none of this was your fault. And I know this is difficult, but just keep telling yourself that it was not your fault, all right?"

"All right," Harry said quietly, not sure if he would ever really be able to believe that. Maybe if he had just been more willing to listen to Malfoy, or more forgiving with the blond, maybe none of it would have happened. Maybe Draco wouldn't be lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing and maybe Harry wouldn't be feeling as though he would never be able to close his eyes without seeing the final look on Malfoy's face before he suddenly turned and ran for the window, determined to throw himself through it.

"It's not your fault, Harry," she repeated, and Harry was glad that she was using his first name, something not too many people outside of his friends did. It was always either 'Harry Potter', or 'Mr Potter' or one of his million stupid titles that people always insisted on referring to him as, and Harry was glad to think of himself being comforted as Harry and not as Harry Potter; it made him feel as though she was comforting him simply because he was a human being and not because he was the Chosen One or the Boy Who Lived or the Saviour of the wizarding world.

"I want you to say those words," she continued, and he glanced up in confusion, wondering what she meant. "I want you to say out loud that it was not your fault."

"But—"

"No," she interrupted, holding up a finger. "No buts. It is not your fault that this happened, and I feel that it would do you some good to hear yourself actually say it."

"It—" Harry hesitated, forcing himself to say the words and praying for himself to believe them, "it wasn't my fault."

"There now," she said kindly, offering him a motherly smile, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Harry said nothing.

Madam Pomfrey simply sat in silence with him, allowing him to collect himself and occasionally patting him on the arm.

"What's going to happen to him?" Harry finally asked, voice soft and unsure. Harry had known that bringing him to the Hospital Wing had been the best thing for Malfoy, but what would happen to the blond now that he was there? Would he be punished for it? Sent to St. Mungo's? Given detention? Harry had no idea what to expect.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, glancing back at the dark shape lying several meters away in a narrow hospital bed. "Well, I've given him a potion to help him sleep through the night, but I'm afraid that I have no choice but to report this to the Headmistress. I do have a basic bit of training in Mind Healing, but I am by no means an expert. I'll speak to him at length in the morning, but if I feel as though he needs more help than I am able to give him, he may have to be transferred to St. Mungo's temporarily to begin seeing a professional there, at least until it's decided that he is no longer a danger to himself. If I feel like this is something that I can help him with myself, then he will begin undergoing mind healing sessions with me at least twice a week, possibly more, depending on what state I determine him to be in and how stable I believe him to be.

"Don't worry, Mr Potter," she continued softly, offering Draco another sad glance, "we won't allow any harm to come to him, not even from himself. You did the right thing in bringing him here."

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the tears still rolling down his cheeks. The Calming Draught had worked in keeping the best of the panic away, but it did not seem able to stop the tears from welling up. How had things come to this so quickly? Harry and Draco still barely knew one another, had only been involved for _days_ , and yet…yet Malfoy had been so prepared to take his own life simply because he had thought that Harry hated him.

 _Stupid idiot_ , Harry thought angrily, swiping at his cheeks.

A steaming cup of tea was suddenly being pressed into his hands and he glanced up in surprise to find Pomfrey leaning over him, offering him a kind smile. "Drink this," she said softly. "You'll feel better."

Nodding, Harry accepted it and took a sip, noting that it was rather sweeter than he preferred, but it was hot and soothing and really did make him feel better as he drank more deeply, suddenly feeling parched.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," she reminded him, pulling out her wand to cast some sort of diagnostic spell over Harry. She took the empty cup back from him when he finished and set it aside. "Now," she said, fixing him with a stern look, "I would like you to come back sometime tomorrow to see me. I think it best that you head up to bed and get some sleep now, but I would like to check how you're doing tomorrow, all right?"

"Can I stay with him?" Harry asked in a low voice, gesturing toward Draco.

"No," she said kindly, offering him a sad smile. "I think it would be best for you to get some sleep in your own bed. And I also think it best that he be given some time alone when he wakes up to process what happened."

"Okay," Harry whispered, closing his eyes against the new tears welling up.

"I would like to speak to him first and determine what sort of mental state he is in before you have the chance to speak with him, okay?" she said in a sympathetic voice, rising from her chair and crossing to the large cabinet to rustle through the glass bottles until she found the one she was looking for. She walked back to Harry and held out a tiny opaque vial. "If you need any help sleeping tonight," she explained, and he pocketed it with a grateful nod, knowing he would most likely need it. He was not looking forward to closing his eyes, that was for sure.

He rose to his feet and slowly crossed to Draco's bed, wanting to begin weeping once more at the sight of Draco lying there so still and pale and unconscious, and knowing that the blond was lucky to even still be alive; he almost had not made it out of that tower alive, and the thought was enough to twist Harry's gut with a white-hot heat, like he had been stabbed with a sharp dagger.

Draco had almost died.

A warm hand settled on Harry's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Harry," Pomfrey said in a soft voice, turning him away from Malfoy's bed and leading him to the door at the far side of the room. "It's not your fault. Just keep telling yourself that, all right? It is not your fault."

"Right," Harry whispered with a nod.

"Drink the potion tonight," she reminded him, gesturing toward the bottle he had slipped into his pocket. "If you feel as though you are not up to attending class tomorrow, I'm sure the Headmistress will understand. But if you do feel as though you aren't up for classes, I want you to come back here and see me immediately, all right? I don't want you sitting up in your dorm all by yourself spending the entire day replaying everything that happened over and over in your mind, do you understand me?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear," she murmured, patting him once more on the shoulder. "Now off to bed with you. Go get some sleep. I promise you'll feel better in the morning."

"I hope so," he mumbled, giving her a watery, forced smile before turning and exiting the Hospital Wing. Once the door had been shut softly behind him, he began to slowly make his way back to the Tower, shivering at the heavy quilt of darkness surrounding him from every side. The entire world seemed to be made up of nothing but shadows and dark, threatening shapes, and Harry could not shake the feeling that something was creeping up on him in the blackness.

It was with a sigh of relief that he finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gave him a disgruntled look at being awoken. At the password, she swung open to reveal the dimly-lit common room, fire burning low in the grate. But it wasn't until Harry had taken two steps into the room that he glanced up and stopped short at the sight of Hermione pacing back and forth in obvious agitation, appearing upset and sounding as though she was breathing far too quickly. Ron sat in the chair nearest her, face expressionless as he watched her pace, but Harry could see definite worry in his blue eyes, even in the darkness.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, finally glancing up and noticing him. "There you are! Where were you? We were worried!" Crossing the room, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, and he surprised himself by instantly clinging back, not even knowing how much he had needed the comfort of an embrace until he was given one. "Who were you with?" she demanded, pulling back but not really moving away. "Just now, where were you? Who were you with?"

"Why?" he asked in surprise. "What are the two of you even doing up? How did you know I was gone?"

"Erm…" Ron began uncomfortably, standing and walking over to the two of them. "We have something to tell you, Harry. Something that…" he sighed heavily, "something that you're not going to like."

Harry laughed hollowly. "Something that I won't like…" he murmured, laughing again and trying to ignore the edge of hysteria to his laughter. He had already seen and heard so many things that night that he had not liked; what else could the universe possibly now hit him with?

"Come sit down, mate," Ron said in a low voice, and it was his absolute utter seriousness that snapped Harry straight from hysteria into fear. Oh god, what had happened?

Feeling blank, he walked on numb legs to the armchair Ron had been sitting in and dropped heavily down into the seat, gazing up at them in hollow-eyed expectation. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance before taking matching deep breaths and sitting on the small sofa across from him.

"Who were you with tonight, Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously, sounding just as somber and humorless as Ron looked.

"Does it matter?" Harry asked, still trying his hardest to process everything that had happened in the last few days. Would anything ever again make sense?

"Yes," Ron answered, staring at Harry without blinking. "Were you with Malfoy?"

Harry said nothing, giving them a small shrug in response, and they both turned to one another with the same worried look.

"We have something to tell you about Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, and Harry stared at her in blank surprise. What about Malfoy? "Earlier tonight…" she hesitated, appearing unsure how to say what she needed to say. "Earlier tonight, I was in the girls' bathroom in the dorm…" she trailed off again and Harry stared at her in confusion, wondering where the hell she was going with that. "And I…these two fourth-year girls came in and they…they thought the bathroom was empty. And they were talking, not even knowing that I was in there and could hear everything they were saying…"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, feeling exhausted and worn out and not wanting to sit there listening to her odd stilted sentences all night. "What are you trying to say?"

"They were talking about you, Harry," Ron cut in, drawing Harry's attention to him. "The two girls were in there talking about you and about…" he paused to sigh, "they were talking about ways they could slip you a love potion."

"The most ridiculous ways I've ever heard," Hermione scoffed, shaking her head angrily. "They were discussing how to somehow get a love potion to you without you realizing it."

Harry shut his eyes with a heavy exhale, feeling unsteady and weak. "Please tell me they're expelled now," he said feebly, not wanting to deal with thinking about such things when his mind was already such a pained mess.

"No, but I'm not actually sure what's going to happen to them," Hermione said darkly, and Harry glanced up in surprise.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that they're still with McGonagall," she said, clasping her hands in her lap as she eyed Harry carefully. "I took them immediately to see her before they could actually go through with any of their awful plans, but before I did…"

"What?" Harry prodded, feeling sudden anxiety course through his entire body. What had happened? Why did Hermione sound like that?

"Well, after I came out and confronted them," she inhaled deeply, "I demanded that they hand the potions over to me immediately, which they did. And I made them sit there while I summoned the potion I kept from the Hufflepuff girl the other day and tested them against each other. And, Harry…"

"What?" he asked, feeling numb. What was Hermione saying?

"They were the same," Ron answered, reaching over to rub Hermione's back with one hand. "They really were from the same batch, Harry, somebody really is selling all of them to the younger students."

"Who is it?" Harry felt cold and blank; terrified and empty and desolate and alone.

"Well, after I demanded to know where they had gotten it," Hermione said, every word sounding regretful, "they refused to tell me but did say that it was from an older student. A girl. They said she had been brewing the potions all year and had supposedly finally perfected her very own form of love potion. And then I asked how they could be so sure that she really _had_ perfected it or if she was simply saying that to convince them to buy it, but they said that they had thought the same thing and had also demanded proof because of how expensive it was to purchase, so she told them that she had already tested it on another student. A male student."

"Are you telling me _again_ that you think I'm under the influence of a love potion for Malfoy?" Harry demanded, ready to begin arguing immediately, but the sad look on Hermione's face silenced his protests.

"No, Harry," she said softly, "no, I know that you're not under a love potion."

"Then who was the student?" Harry wondered, face scrunched up in confusion and mind whirling in a million different directions at once and trying to focus on a million different thoughts.

"They didn't know," she said, clasping Ron's hand tightly and seeming to prepare herself to deliver bad news; Harry's stomach tightened. "But I took them to McGonagall and as soon as McGonagall asked them who they had bought the potions from, they broke down and told her."

"Who was it?" Harry repeated, stomach churning. Who the hell was the one selling all these damned potions to the younger students?

Hermione and Ron exchanged a sad glance. "Astoria Greengrass."

" _What?"_ Harry asked, feeling shock course through him. "Astoria Greengrass? _How?_ How was she brewing her own brand-new type of love potion?!"

"Well," Hermione began, sounding reluctant to explain, "she's the top potions student in the entire seventh-year, and she's supposedly been working on perfecting it since the start of term."

"But," Harry still felt numb with shock, "what the fuck though, _why?_ I don't even know her! What the hell did I ever do to her to make her want to start a sodding business built solely on the idea of drugging me?!"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, and Harry grimaced as he realized that the worst of the news was still to come, "that's exactly what McGonagall wanted to know. So she sent a message to the Slytherin Head asking her to bring Astoria up to McGonagall's office, and about five minutes later Gladstone shows up with Astoria in tow. And the second she saw those two fourth-year girls, she started looking terrified. Between McGonagall and Gladstone, it really didn't take too much to get her to confess to everything, and it…she…"

"What, Hermione?" Harry asked through rubbery lips, unable to do anything but sit there in cold dread and wait for her to deliver whatever final blow her bad news was sure to impart. "What did she say?"

"Well, she told us the name," Hermione whispered. "The name of the student she had tested the potion on. And it was…oh, Harry, it was…"

Harry suddenly laughed, a loud laugh ringing with pain and disbelief. "I know exactly who it was, Hermione," he said in a dead voice, feeling his insides twist themselves into crippling knots of agony. _Oh my god._ "I know exactly who it was; I know exactly what you're trying to say. It was Draco. Draco was the one she tested it on."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said, tears shining in her brown eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"None of it was real…" Harry felt the disbelief coursing through him weigh him down like a heavy stone, a thousand pounds of stunned disbelief that he could feel himself being crushed under, suffocating beneath, unable to breathe or move or think or feel. "None of it was even real…oh, god." He suddenly felt sick as he recalled everything that had happened over the past few days, everything that had happened between them—he had let Malfoy suck him off, he had sucked off Malfoy! More than once! Harry had assaulted him! He had _raped_ him! Malfoy hadn't really been willing at all, and Harry had been too stupid to see the signs. Harry had raped the boy that he had been falling so hard for, he had assaulted the person that Harry cared about more than he had even been comfortable admitting to himself! "Oh my god." Harry jumped to his feet and stumbled away from the two of them, feeling nausea churning his stomach. "Oh my god." His breaths started to come faster and faster, until he was gasping and dizzy and his entire field of vision was covered in dancing black spots. "Oh my god, oh god," he choked, feeling as though he was a second away from passing out, from sicking up, from breaking down completely. What had he done? What had he allowed himself to do to Draco? And how much would Draco hate him for it when he was himself again?

After all, Harry had known! He had known that there was no way in hell Draco Malfoy would ever have been romantically interested in him! He had _known_ there was no chance that Draco could ever have been attracted to him! And Harry had ignored it! He had ignored the gut certainty and all the reasons why it simply could not be possible; he had ignored everything in favor of his own selfish feelings and his own selfish pleasure. Harry was no better than any of the students whom he had accused of being deranged and soulless; he was just as awful and immoral as every person who had ever given someone a love potion in the past.

Harry had raped Draco.

And that thought, on top of everything else that had happened that very night, was too much. It was all just too much.

Falling to the floor, Harry gasped and heaved, trying his hardest to draw breaths past the tears and the panic and the rising hysteria. Oh god, he couldn't _breathe!_ Oh god, he didn't even _deserve_ to breathe! He had hurt Draco, probably forever! He had most likely traumatized him and now Draco would be even more broken than he had been before; he would surely hate Harry forever!

And Harry deserved it. He had done this.

"Harry!"

Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him, holding him up, and he clutched at Hermione desperately, unable to stop himself from weeping into her shoulder.

"What have I done, Hermione?" he whispered brokenly, his sobbing only gaining in volume. "What have I done? I did everything that I had been so terrified would happen to me. I _violated_ him! I let him violate _himself_! I bloody ra—"

"No, Harry!" Hermione said fiercely, pulling back to look him in the eye. "No! Stop it right now! This is different and you know it! You had no idea he was under a love potion, you thought his feelings were genuine! You did nothing wrong because you had no idea! I know you and I _know_ that you would never _ever_ have gotten involved with him if you had known! You would never have even considered it, even if you _had_ been aware of your feelings for him at the time! You did not violate him, you did not rape him! He can't hold you responsible because you _didn't know!_ It was _Astoria_ who did this to him, it was _Astoria_ who violated him, even if it wasn't done at her own hand! _She_ is the only one responsible here, not him, and certainly not you! Neither of you can be blamed!" Her voice softened as she gazed at him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered, pulling him back into a gentle hug and holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry. When I thought that you were the one under a love potion, it had never even crossed my mind to consider that it might not actually be _you_ who was under the influence of magic. I wish I had thought to suspect before it had gone any further. I wish I had thought to suspect before any of it had really been allowed to start between the two of you."

"Tonight, Hermione…" Harry wept, refusing to allow himself to be comforted. He was guilty. He was guilty and he was sick and he was the one who should never have allowed things to progress that far. "Tonight, he…oh god, h-he…fuck, no wonder! He kept saying that he refused to live without me, that he bloody _l-l-loved_ me, and I never even…I never—I should have—but…but I d-didn't….I should have but I didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Hermione asked softly, stroking his hair in comfort. "What happened tonight, Harry?"

Swallowing noisily, Harry tried to slow his tears, knowing that his confession was only sure to increase the force of them. "He…Hermione, he…" he pulled back to give her a tortured look, feeling his stomach churn hotly with a thousand different emotions. "Hermione, he…he tried to kill himself!" The words were accompanied by a sob, one wrenched straight from Harry's throat so hard it hurt. "He tried to kill himself, Hermione, all because I wouldn't forgive him! He had attacked me in a goddamn c-corridor, and then…I-I said…I—I—he said that he wouldn't live in a world where I h-hated him, in a world where he couldn't be with me! He—he tried to throw himself out of a goddamn window! R-right in front of me! Hermione, he—he tried—oh god, he tried—" Harry gasped wildly, unable to continue. His breaths were once more frantic and racing, his heart pounding painfully as his vision swam.

"Calm down, Harry!" Hermione said sharply, weeping as she held him tightly. "Please," she whispered, "please, just calm down. None of this is your fault. Love potions are dangerous, they make people do dangerous things."

At the remembrance of all the dangerous things Draco had done, Harry felt his breathing increase, and he knew that even if he wanted to, he could not calm down; he could not even breathe. He was surely only a moment away from passing out, surely only a moment away from fainting dead in Hermione's arms. Some distant part of his mind felt the tip of a wand pressing into his back and the whisper of a spell, and air was suddenly filling his lungs as his chest expanded. His vision slowly began to clear as Hermione whispered the same spell, filling his lungs once more with air, and he began to gradually relearn how to breathe, his inhalations slowly evening out as she rubbed his back and held him tightly.

"Please, Harry," she said in a quiet, heartbroken voice, "please, just breathe. I know that tonight was horrible, but it's all going to be all right, I promise, you'll see. It's going to be okay, none of this was your fault."

Madam Pomfrey's voice was suddenly in Harry's head, echoing through his mind— _None of this was your fault. Just keep telling yourself that, none of this was your fault._

"He's going to hate me so much," Harry whispered, unable to release Hermione as she rocked him back and forth, stroking his hair and murmuring gentle words to him. "He's going to hate me even more than he did before any of this happened. What if he hates me enough to press charges? What if _that's_ the way it all comes out? What if _that's_ how everyone finds out that I—that I-I raped—"

"You didn't rape anybody, Harry!" Hermione said in a firm voice, continuing to rock him. "You _didn't!"_

"She's right, Harry," Ron said quietly, and Harry glanced up to see him kneeling behind Hermione, gazing at him with pity and concern, compassion and sorrow shining out from his blues eyes. "You didn't know, none of this is your fault. And you certainly didn't rape anybody, so stop telling yourself you did. And anyway, he couldn't press charges against you even if he wanted to. You're not the one that gave him the potion and you had absolutely no knowledge of it the entire time you two were involved. It was Greengrass who's responsible and she's the only one he has a real shot at pressing charges against, especially if the potion nearly resulted in the loss of his life."

At the reminder, Harry cried even harder. Draco had almost died, and all for a fucking _potion_ ; it had never actually been about love. He had never loved Harry; he had only thought he did, he had only been _made_ to think he did, forced to think he did, and he had nearly ended his own life for that false belief.

"It's not your fault," Ron said, patting his shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "It's really not, so stop blaming yourself."

"What's going to happen to Greengrass?" Harry asked wetly, sniffing as he sat up to peer at Hermione and Ron with watery eyes.

"We don't know yet," Hermione answered, rubbing his arm. "McGonagall and Gladstone were still speaking to her when I left; I wanted to find you right away. I seriously doubt, however, that she is going to be getting off as lightly as all the others have, especially in the new face of the most recent events."

Harry nodded hollowly, brain still struggling to make sense of any of what he had been told. How could Malfoy have been under the effects of a love potion the entire time and Harry had not noticed? How could he have been so fucking _blind_? How could he have overlooked and ignored all the little signs that had been right in front of his face?

"I have to go," Harry said in a numb voice, pulling away completely. "I—I have to go."

"No, you don't!" Hermione said immediately, sounding concerned. "No, Harry, you're not going anywhere! We're going to get you into bed, okay? Let's just get you into bed, and after you get some sleep and some distance from everything that's overwhelming you so much right now, you'll start feeling better, all right?"

"No, Hermione," he said calmly, voice still sounding blank. "No, I don't need sleep. I don't want sleep. I need to go sit with him; I need to make sure he's okay. I need to—" he choked back a sudden sob, "I need to be the one to tell him. He needs to hear it from me and I need to be the one to tell him."

"You're not going to tell him tonight, are you?" Ron asked in a worried voice. "I don't think now's really the best time for him to hear it, Harry."

"No," Harry shook his head. "No, not tonight. He's asleep anyway, Pomfrey gave him a potion to help him sleep through the night. But…but I want to be there when he wakes up. I want to be the one to tell him. I _have_ to be. It has to be me."

Hermione sighed heavily, exchanging a long and complicated look with Ron before finally turning to Harry. "Do you want us to come with you? We can come sit with you and wait."

"No," he shook his head. "No, you two go to bed and get some sleep. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway." He ignored the feel of the tiny glass vial in his pocket, knowing that he did not want to close his eyes and he did not want to sleep when he had so much to think about. "I'll be fine, I'm just going to sit beside him. And I'll be in my Invisibility Cloak, so we won't all fit anyway."

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I really don't think that's a good idea, I really don't think you should be alone right now."

"I'm not going to do anything drastic, Hermione, I promise. I promise that I'll be fine, I just…" he shut his eyes in an attempt at holding back the tears, "I just want to sit with him. Just for this one last night, before he goes back to hating me in the morning. Please."

Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of Hermione's anguished face, tears shining in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. "Okay," she whispered, leaning forward to wrap Harry in a tight embrace. "Okay, Harry, if that's what you need. I'm so sorry, I really am."

"Did she ever say why?" Harry wondered, unsure if Hermione would know what he meant, but she pulled back with an even sadder expression and Harry knew that she had understood.

"Yes," she nodded, looking reluctant to continue. "She said that…she chose the two of you because…" she sniffed, dropping her gaze to the floor, "she chose the two of you because she needed the potion to be tested on—on two people who would never, ever have feelings for one another, who would never normally have a chance at falling in love. She wanted two people who had always hated one another. And she wasn't able to slip you the potion, because you've been so wary of looking out for any attempts, but she was able to slip it to Malfoy without him ever knowing."

At the words, Harry nodded, feeling his insides freeze over completely, and he had to fight the urge to laugh hysterically. "No chance at ever falling in love…" he echoed softly, feeling as though all the blood in his body had somehow been replaced with snow. He could not remember ever feeling colder in his entire life, not even that time as a child when Uncle Vernon had locked him out of the house in a snowstorm for speaking back to Aunt Petunia, refusing to allow Harry back inside until he was sobbing his apologies through blue lips the color of ice.

But this was so much worse.

This was all of Harry's worst fears being met in one night; everything he had been so terrified would happen to him happening in the reverse. He had been so afraid of becoming just some sort of mindless love slave for another person, only to realize that he had somehow become the unknowing owner of a mindless love slave, one he had started to develop real, genuine feelings for, only to then realize that they had never once felt the same way toward him—it had all been a lie, nothing but masked make-believe. Draco had never loved him, had never wanted him, and would most likely never even be willing to look at him again after Harry told him everything.

"I'm going to go sit with him now," Harry said, in a voice as blank as air.

Something soft and silken was being pressed into his hands, and Harry glanced up to find Ron handing him the Invisibility Cloak, leaving Harry blinking in surprise. He had not even heard the redhead leave to go grab it from the dorm.

"Thanks," he said hollowly, climbing to his feet and staring down at the Cloak for long moments.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione whispered, hugging him again. "I know that everything hurts now and it all seems so awful and hopeless, but things will get better again, I promise. Everything will sort itself out, you'll see. Just keep telling yourself that you were as much an innocent victim in this as Malfoy was; neither of you is to blame for any of it. Neither of you is at fault."

"Thanks, Hermione," he whispered back, clinging to her until he felt the world steady itself beneath his feet and he was able to let go.

"Don't be afraid to send me a Patronus if you need me," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't care if it wakes up the entire dorm. If you need someone else to come sit with you, no matter how short of a time you want someone at your side, send me a Patronus, okay? Even if all you need is for someone to come tell you again that everything will be okay and remind you that none of it was your fault."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Ron clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder, slipping his hand into Hermione's as they stepped back and watched Harry head for the portrait hole. Turning back, he eyed them in silence for several seconds, feeling his chest tighten painfully at the sight of them holding hands.

The sight hurt too much to see and Harry quickly turned away.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand with drama comes truth. I know a lot of you had already called it from the first chapter, you clever little badgers :) Prepare for even more drama next chapter!


	6. For the Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING—No soap opera is complete without a dramatic hospital scene!

Draco looked beautiful.

That was the one thought that Harry kept coming back to as he gazed down at Malfoy's sleeping face. Draco looked beautiful. His bed was near a window, and a tiny sliver of moonlight had sliced through the clouds to fall perfectly across his face, making his pale skin shine like silver and hair appear a glimmering bone white.

"You really are so beautiful," Harry whispered, trying to swallow past the large lump in his throat, the one that had been there ever since he had first cracked open the door to the Hospital Wing and slipped inside, carefully pulling up a chair beside Malfoy's bed and staring down at him, willing himself not to cry.

Draco was beautiful, and Harry was heartbroken.

"I wish it had been real," he said quietly, longing to reach out and stroke Malfoy's brow, but firmly keeping his hands clasped in his lap. He would not even allow himself to so much as hold Malfoy's hand, feeling like he had already physically violated Draco enough for an entire lifetime; he refused to add any more reasons why Malfoy should hate him come morning. "Even if things between us had gotten as messy and horrible as they did…I still wish it had been real, instead of…" But he could not finish the sentence out loud, scooting his chair a fraction closer instead and trying to cheer himself up by reminding himself that Draco was not actually a suicidal mess in need of hospitalization; he was simply a victim of a disgusting potion.

 _Well, not unless he now needs to be hospitalized as a result of the trauma he'll have when he wakes up and realized that I helped him practically assault himself,_ Harry thought wryly, hating himself at the thought. _Twice._

"Please don't hate me too much," Harry whispered, hating himself even more as he finally broke, allowing himself to reach out one hand and comb his fingers lightly through Malfoy's hair, sweeping it from his pale forehead. "Please don't hate me too much when I tell you. I swear that I never knew, Draco, I swear it! If I had known, I would never have…" A quiet sob tore its way from his throat, and he swallowed the tears as he gazed mournfully down at the other boy, lying so still and unmoving on the narrow hospital bed. "I would never have allowed it to go that far, I would never have allowed it to progress to the point that you almost…" But Harry could not finish that sentence out loud, either.

"We never even got to go on a real date," he continued in a soft murmur, shifting closer. "I never even got to buy you a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks or hold your hand in the corridor. I never even got to introduce you to my friends as my boyfriend." _And now I'll never get the chance._

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring remorsefully down at Draco. Some distant part of his mind was aware of the way the sky outside was slowly lightening, becoming a gradual swirl of rose pinks and pale greys, mixed with the dim baby blue of the vanishing night sky, fading from deep navy into a sunrise that Harry could only describe as depressing. Oh, god, why had morning come so quickly? Harry wasn't ready!

"Mr Potter," a sudden voice said from the other side of the room, and Harry jumped, automatically yanking the hand still stroking Draco's hair back under the Cloak, heart pounding furiously as he turned to find Madam Pomfrey standing near her office, one hand on her hip as she gazed toward him in exasperation. "I know you're there, I heard your voice and I saw your hand, for Merlin's sake."

Feeling sheepish, Harry tugged the Cloak off and folded it nervously in his arms, looking down at the floor. The sound of approaching footsteps sent his heart racing even faster as he wondered what she would do to him. Would he be punished for sneaking back in after he had been expressly forbidden to stay? Would she throw him from the Hospital Wing before Harry had a chance to speak to Draco? Had Harry lost all chances to talk to Draco before the blond reverted back to being Malfoy?

"Here," she said above him, and Harry glanced up in surprise to find her holding a teacup out to him. Reaching out automatically, he accepted it, still feeling surprise course through him. What on earth had he done to deserve tea? She eyed him sadly for a minute before taking a seat in a nearby chair. "Minerva told me what happened," she said in a quiet voice, and Harry blinked against sudden tears, sipping his tea carefully. "I went to speak to her after you left about what had occurred with Mr Malfoy and she told me what she had also learned. I'm…" her voice trailed off for a moment and Harry wondered what she had been about to say. "I'm so very sorry, Harry," she finished, in a voice much kinder than Harry thought he deserved. "I'm so sorry that this has happened to you."

"He's the one you should be sorry for," he whispered, "not me. He's the one who—who—"

"I can be sorry for the both of you," she interrupted, "and I am. It's an awful, dreadful thing to have happened, and I am so very sorry for the both of you."

"He almost died," Harry continued in the same blank whisper, eyes not moving from Draco's face. "He almost died. All because…" his eyes burned hotly and his throat felt dry, despite the steaming tea he was still sipping mechanically, unsure what else to do with it, "because of that stupid potion. Because of something he had only thought he felt. But it wasn't real. It had never been real. And if he had actually died for it—" Harry cut himself off before he could start crying. He could not stop replaying the memory of Draco's face right before he tried to throw himself out of the tower window; Harry felt as though he would never stop being haunted by the memory.

"But he didn't," Pomfrey said softly, "he didn't, Harry. He is still alive and healthy. Professor Gladstone stayed up last night brewing an antidote and Mr Malfoy will be fine, I promise."

"But he'll hate me," the brunet whispered fearfully, unsure just what sort of strange power Madam Pomfrey seemed to possess that made him want to open up and admit all of his fears to her. "He'll hate me even more than he did before any of this. I would certainly hate me."

"He'll know that it wasn't your fault," said the older woman in a kind voice, "he'll know it wasn't you who did this. You are every bit as much a victim as he is."

"Can I be the one?" Harry asked, voice thick with emotion. "Can I be the one to explain it all to him? Please?"

Madam Pomfrey was silent for a long time, and Harry finally glanced over to find her staring at him sorrowfully, gaze sweeping over the brunet as though attempting to pierce his flesh with the power of her stare. "I'm not sure if that will be a good idea, Harry," she said finally, sounding far older than she looked, "for either you or him."

"Please," Harry whispered desperately. "Please, I need it to be me. I need a chance to speak with him again before he goes back to hating me. I promise that I won't take advantage of him in any way, I won't distress him any more than can be helped, but…" he swallowed heavily, eyes shining with unshed tears, "but I just want a chance to say goodbye to him before…"

A sad sigh reached his ears. "Very well then, Harry," she conceded, handing over a vial of liquid. "This is the antidote; he must take the entire vial. Understand, however, that it is very, very difficult to convince a person under the effects of a love potion to actually take the antidote of their own free will. It is nearly always impossible to convince a person under this sort of magical influence that what they are feeling is not real—he will fight you on this, he will argue and defend his feelings, and he will most likely attempt to seduce you out of questioning both him and his attraction for you, do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry swallowed, feeling nervous.

"Persons under love potions," she continued in a warning voice, "have also been known to become physically violent with the individual attempting to convince them their feelings are not real; they have been known to become violent with the object of their obsession. Understand, Mr Potter, that you are placing yourself at risk by doing this."

"I understand," he whispered. "I understand all of it."

"Very well, then," she sighed heavily, climbing to her feet. "But please be careful, all right?"

He nodded.

"Now," she said in a bustling voice, casting several diagnostic spells over Draco, "Mr Malfoy should be waking any minute. The potion I gave him to sleep wore off several minutes ago, so his body will soon begin waking naturally. He seems stable enough at this point, physically, at least, but I have no idea what sort of mental state he will be in upon waking. He may still be right in that very same mindset he was in up in that tower."

At the words, Harry could not fight the shudder that ran through him at the thought of Draco waking up in the same mentality as he had been in when Harry had Stunned him. "I won't let him hurt himself."

"He's not the only one he's capable of hurting," she reminded him gently, and Harry shuddered again.

"I won't let him hurt either of us, I promise." God, Harry did not want to do this. He had never imagined he would ever have to one day do something as horrible as this.

"I'm trusting you to do just that." She patted his shoulder softly, smiling down at him in a motherly way. "Now, I'm going to leave the blinds in my office open, to keep an eye on the both of you just in case. But I promise that I won't listen to your conversation. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, a large part of himself grateful that an adult figure would be looking over the two of them and keeping Draco from harming himself if it came to that.

"All right then, Mr Potter, I shall be in my office if you need me." Turning away, she had only taken two strides forward before she snapped her fingers and doubled back. "This is just in case you need it." She pulled another vial of liquid from her pocket, this one a bright saffron color. "This will keep him from becoming hysterical. If you need any help administering either potion to him, just wave at my window and I'll be out in a flash."

"Thank you," he said numbly, placing both potions on the small table near Malfoy's bed. With another pat to his shoulder, Pomfrey turned away and headed into her office, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

"I'm not ready, Draco," Harry whispered, giving in to the temptation to touch him one last time, reaching down to thread his fingers through Malfoy's own cold digits, trying to warm them as best he could as he waited for the blond to open his eyes so Harry could then proceed to shatter his own heart all over Malfoy's drugged illusions.

A twinge of panic shot through Harry's chest as Draco's eyelids fluttered, slowly opening to reveal the smoky grey of his eyes, and Harry felt his heart constrict. At the sight of the sudden hope and naked wonder in Malfoy's gaze, Harry felt his heart squeeze tighter and tighter until it was nothing but a ball of burning pain sitting heavy in his chest like searing lead.

"Harry," Malfoy said in a scratchy voice, and Harry automatically released his hand to pour him a glass of water from the jug next to his bed. The moment Harry let go of his hand, Draco's eyes grew wide with panic and he bolted upright, reaching out to Harry in fear before he realized that Harry was not running away but attempting to get him something to drink. Appearing both relieved and somewhat sheepish, Draco accepted the cup and sipped at the water, drinking nearly half of it before reaching over to set it on the table and turning to eye Harry nervously.

"You're here," he said in a shy, wondrous tone that broke Harry's heart.

"Er, yeah. Yeah, I'm here." But now that Harry was here, he wasn't actually sure if he could do this.

"I thought you would never speak to me again," Draco confessed, reaching out to pick up one of Harry's hands and trap it between his own. "I thought you hated me now."

The words tore a sob from Harry's throat, one he had not been expecting. "I don't hate you, Draco," he swallowed. "But…I'm not sure I can say the opposite won't be true in just a minute. Just—just try to remember, after this whole thing is over, that I haven't hated you in a long time, and that I'll never hate you again, no matter how much you'll most likely hate _me_."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," said the blond in a fierce voice, squeezing Harry's hand. "I could never, ever hate you, _ever_! You're not even making any sense, why would I hate you? And how? I don't understand what you're saying. Why are you so upset?"

"Because." Harry shut his eyes, praying he would not start crying again. Lord, had he not already cried enough for the rest of his lifetime? How could he still have any tears left? "Because of what I need to tell you. I need to explain some things to you, and you're not going to want to hear them. I don't want to say them. But I need to, and I need you to listen, okay? I know you won't believe me, but I'm hoping that you'll realize that I care about you and I'm only doing what's best for you."

"Harry, you're scaring me." Draco clutched at his hand even tighter. "You're scaring me, what are you saying? Are you—is this you breaking up with me? For good? Oh god, you're leaving me forever, aren't you? No, Harry, _please_! Please don't—I'll be better! I'll be a better boyfriend, I'll treat you the way you deserve to be treated! I won't ever give you cause to fear me ever again, I'll never try to hurt myself ever again if you just stay with me!"

"Draco," Harry wept, feeling the damn blasted sodding tears finally fall free. "Please, just listen."

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry for everything!" Malfoy said frantically, sounding panicked. "I'm sorry, all right? I'm so sorry! But please— _please_ don't give up on me like this! Please, just—just give me a chance to make it all up to you, give me a chance to prove how much I love you! I can make you so happy if only you'll let me, Harry, if only you'll give me the chance! Please, I love you so much! Just give me the chance to deserve your love in return!"

The more words fell from Malfoy's mouth, the more tears fell from Harry's eyes. Every plea only succeeded in breaking Harry's heart even more, adding more and more fractures to it until Harry knew there was no way it would not soon shatter completely, beyond any amount of repair. It would never be whole again.

"Please, Draco," he whispered, eyes still shut. "Please, just listen to me. I'm not technically here to break up with you, and I certainly don't blame you for last night."

"You don't?" Draco asked hopefully, raising Harry's hand to his lips and pressing several kisses to the knuckles. "You really don't blame me? You're not angry with me?"

"No," Harry shook his head, knowing he really should pull his hand away but unable to actually make himself do so. "I don't blame you because it wasn't your fault." He opened his eyes to find Malfoy gazing at him in confusion.

"Well, it certainly wasn't yours," the blond frowned. "I know what I said last night and the way it all sounded, like it was your fault if I ended up harming myself, but it's not true, Harry! It's not your fault, none of it is your fault! You're perfect, Harry, so perfect. You're the most perfect person I've ever met."

"Please, Draco," the brunet pleaded, feeling another crack splinter his heart, "please. Just listen, okay? Because I have something I need to explain to you and I need you to listen without interrupting."

"Okay," Malfoy agreed cautiously, still refusing to let go of Harry's hand. There was fear in his eyes and Harry could not stand to see it. Against both his better judgment and everything his brain was screaming at him, Harry rose from his chair and perched carefully on the edge of Malfoy's bed near his hip, closing his eyes as Draco automatically reached out one hand to comb through Harry's hair with a small, uncertain smile, one that Harry did not return.

Reaching up, Harry grasped Malfoy's hands and gently placed them both on the bed between the two boys, clasping Malfoy's fingers tightly as Harry braced himself for the next part. "Do you remember, Draco, the first night we met up in the East Tower? I asked you why you had chosen to approach me then, why it had taken you so long to come to me if you had really wanted me for so long, and you said that the question was not even something you had paused to consider and that the timing was simply right, do you remember that?"

"Of course," Draco nodded. "That was the night that I knew—as soon as you showed up, I knew."

"Knew what?" Harry asked, feeling curious despite not wanting to get sidetracked, but Malfoy's answer made him wish he had never asked.

"I knew you returned the attraction," the blond answered simply. "I knew that you at least felt _something_ for me, even if you did not know what, and even if it didn't equal what I feel for you. That was the night that I knew there was at least some sort of hope for us."

At Malfoy's confident words, Harry ducked his head as several more tears fell from his eyes.

"Don't be sad, Harry," Draco whispered, raising his hands to Harry's face to cup it tenderly, wiping away the tears sliding down Harry's cheeks with his thumbs. "Don't be sad. There's no need to be sad. There's obviously still hope for us, from the way I woke up to find you sitting at my bedside. You wouldn't be here if you didn't still think there was hope for us. You wouldn't be sitting beside me if you didn't think I was worth sitting beside."

"Draco," Harry choked, closing his eyes. God, Draco was making the situation ten times harder than Harry had been imagining, and he wasn't actually sure if he could do this. "Please, I need you to _listen_."

"All right," Draco smiled, thumbs still caressing Harry's cheekbones. "I love you, Harry, I'll always listen to you."

The words sent a sharp pain shooting through Harry's entire torso as he felt his heart finally shatter, the muscle exploding deep inside his chest like a glass vase dropped from the top of a staircase, smashing on the pavement below into specks of dust and shards of glass so fine they were practically nonexistent, blown away in the very next second on a cold breeze of Harry's own icy anguish.

"There was a reason," Harry forced himself to speak, even though he wasn't sure how long a person could live with no heart; it had been pulverized within his own chest; it was broken and gone, there was nothing left to pump blood through his body—there was nothing keeping him alive. "There was a reason you thought the timing was suddenly so right, why you never actually stopped to question what you were doing or why you were doing it out of nowhere. There was a reason you first approached me, Draco, and it's not for any of the reasons you think."

"Well, of course there was a reason," Draco rolled his eyes. "The reason is that I wanted to be with you. I love you and I could no longer bear to keep my feelings a secret. I love you, Harry, and I could no longer stand to keep that fact so hidden from you. That's the reason."

"No," Harry shook his head, feeling the empty space where his heart should reside throb. "No, it's not, and you don't. You don't love me, Draco, and I can't—" he paused to sob brokenly, "I can't stand hearing you say that you do, because it's not true. It's never been true, so please…please just listen."

"Of course it's true," Malfoy argued, "how can you say it's not true? Why would you say something like that? It's the truest thing in my life—you _are_ my life! Don't tell me how I feel if you don't actually know, Harry, only I can tell others how I feel. And how I feel is that I love you!"

"Stop, Draco, please!" Harry begged, reaching up to tug at Malfoy's wrists and lower his hands from Harry's face. "It's not true because those were never your feelings in the first place! You just think they are, but they're _not!"_

"Well, now you're just not making sense," Malfoy frowned, beginning to sound frustrated. "Of _course_ they're my feelings, what does that even mean when you say they're not? I feel them, therefore they're my feelings. I feel love for you, therefore I love you. That's how feelings work."

"They're not your real feelings because Astoria Greengrass put you under a love potion!" Harry snapped, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain that washed through him at the words. "She put you under a love potion, Draco, none of what you've felt for me has been real!"

There was silence for several moments before Malfoy scoffed loudly. "Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, surely you don't actually believe that, Harry?"

"It's not a matter of if I believe it or not, Draco, because it's true," the brunet whispered, studying Draco's face intently. "Astoria got caught and confessed to McGonagall last night, she admitted that she brewed the potion herself and put you under it as a test subject because—" his words caught on a sob, "because she needed two people who would never normally fall in love without the help of a potion. And she couldn't get my dose to me because of how much I'm on guard for that sort of thing and how often Hermione checks everything I eat and drink, but…but she was able to dose _you_."

Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry felt himself growing frustrated that he was refusing to even entertain the thought that it might be true, even though Harry had known how Draco would react. "Even if that was somehow true, she would have had to keep dosing me for it to work, Harry."

"I don't know the details, Draco, I don't know how this particular potion works," Harry confessed, staring down at his hands. "I don't know how she even got it to you in the first place, but…I do know that everything I've said is the truth. She confessed to McGonagall; Hermione was the one who tracked her down. Astoria is the person who's been brewing all the love potions and selling them to the other students. You remember how I told you how often I get other students attempting to slip me love potions? They all came from her; they were all made by her."

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Harry felt hopeful at the thought that he might finally be getting through to the blond, right until he opened his mouth to speak. "That bitch," he spat, "I'll fucking kill her for this! That little slag is the reason so many other students have been trying to drug you? _She's_ the reason they've all been trying to bewitch you away from me? _I'm_ the one you love, not them! How dare she think she can sell a potion to turn you away from the person you _truly_ love! No potion she could ever make could ever even hope to compare to what we have between us!"

"But we don't have anything between us, Draco," Harry blinked rapidly. "Not anything real. At least, not in regard to how you feel about me."

"Don't you dare say that, Harry," Malfoy said in a low voice, "don't you dare tell me how I feel, I _know_ how I feel! And I know that I love you, and I don't care what anybody else says, I _know_ that I love you! Nobody can convince me that my feelings for you are not real when I'm the only one who knows what I feel! I was willing to give my life for you, Harry, that's how much I love you!"

"No, Draco!" Harry cried, feeling hysterical. "No, you don't love me! You never did! You almost killed yourself last night because of the potion, not because of how much you love me! I mean, that's fucking insane, are you even listening to yourself?!"

"I don't need to," Malfoy said simply, leaning forward. "I don't need to because I already know how I feel, I already know the truth. And it's fine if you don't believe it yet, Harry, it really is. Because I'll make you see, I'll make you believe me. I'll make you see how much I love you."

And before Harry had time to react, Draco had reached out and grabbed him firmly by the neck, tugging him forward into a searing, scorching kiss, one that Harry felt burn throughout the fractured pile of blood-red dust that had once been his heart. At the contact, he whimpered and clutched at Draco out of instinct, feeling his mouth open beneath Draco's and return the kiss for several glorious seconds before he suddenly wrenched himself away with a cry, throwing himself out of the bed and raising one trembling hand to his mouth.

"Don't, Draco," he rasped in a pained voice, "please don't."

"I'll make you see, Harry," the blond repeated, climbing from the bed and launching himself at Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and covering Harry's mouth with his own once more, forcing Harry's lips apart as he shoved his tongue into the brunet's mouth.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed at Malfoy, managing to force him back a couple of steps. Draco met his gaze with a terrifying, almost hollow-eyed sort of determination, reminding Harry of one of those colorful wind-up toys Dudley had played with as a young child, the kind with bright colors and wide eyes that had always scared Harry for some reason when he had looked at them. The colors had always been too bright and the eyes had always seemed too wide and almost terrified, in a way, the painted faces set in a frozen mask of false amusement, unable to do anything but repeat the same mechanical motions the toy was built to do as another person wound and rewound it, controlling everything it did like a mechanical puppet—Draco had become Harry's own mechanical puppet, only Harry had never been the one to first tie the strings to the blond; he had never been in control of the puppet that had somehow become tethered to him.

"I'll make you see, Harry," he repeated, and Harry began to panic, feeling fear spread through him at the low tone Draco spoke those words in, sounding far too threatening than Harry was comfortable with.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and a jet of light, and Draco was knocked back onto the hospital bed, thick white straps suddenly encasing the length of his body and binding him to the narrow mattress.

"What the hell?" he asked in surprise, beginning to struggle. "Harry! Harry, what's happening?" he shouted in rising panic, "Harry, make it stop! Let me go! Please, I don't like this! _Harry!_ "

Harry buried his face in his hands and breathed deeply, hearing Madam Pomfrey's footsteps approaching from behind.

"Harry!" Draco sobbed, sounding frenzied and terrified. "Harry, what's happening?! What's going on?! Please, let me go! All I wanted was to show you! All I wanted was to show you how much I love you, why are you doing this?!"

"Draco, please," Harry whispered, raising his head to peer down at Malfoy with heartbreak pouring from his sad green eyes. "Please, Draco, this is for your own good."

"Nothing is for my own good if it stops me from being with you!" Malfoy cried, voice becoming hysterical. "How can you even say that? How can you dare stand there and tell me this is for my own good when my own good relies entirely on my being with you?! How could you have done this to me when you got so angry at me for holding you against that wall the other night?! How could you turn around and restrain me in the exact same way that you told me yourself you couldn't handle?! That's the reason you left me, Harry, that's why you stopped trusting me! How could you turn around and do the exact same thing to me when I was only trying to show you how much I love you?!"

Both the reminder and the accusation made Harry shudder violently, the shudder doubling as he imagined being in Draco's place, bound so impossibly tight and completely helpless like that, by someone he thought he could trust.

"Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey said loudly, coming up behind Harry and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please calm yourself. It was I who restrained you, not Mr Potter."

Draco turned to her in surprise, as though only just realizing there was another person in the room. "Then let me go!" he said angrily, beginning to struggle even harder. "You had no right to do that!"

"On the contrary," she said, sounding sympathetic, "I have every right to restrain a patient who is a danger to either themselves or to others. You had become a danger to Mr Potter, and I restrained you out of fear for his own safety."

"What?!" Draco shrieked, thrashing in his bonds. "You think I would hurt _Harry_?! You really think I would ever hurt him?! I love him, I would never hurt him!"

"You were attacking him, Mr Malfoy," she said in a calm voice, but Harry could see pity shining out at Malfoy from her eyes. "You were threatening him. But what's worse is that you don't even realize what it is you were doing."

"I wasn't attacking him, he was never in any danger!" Malfoy snarled, face reddening as he struggled and flailed. "He would never be in danger from me! Tell her, Harry! Tell her that I would never hurt you! Tell her how much I love you! For god's sake, Harry," he sobbed suddenly, startling Harry, "tell her! Please, I don't understand! Why aren't you helping me?"

"Draco," Harry whispered, closing his eyes for a moment against the wave of pain that swept through him. "Please, this—this really is for your own good. Please…just listen to us. We're trying to help you."

"How the fuck is this helping me?!" the blond cried, angry tears of betrayal streaming down his cheeks. "How is any of this helping me?! If you really wanted to help me, you'd let me go, you'd get me out of this! Why are you always helping everyone but me? Why am I the only one you always refuse to save?"

"I am helping you, Draco," Harry spoke with his eyes closed, unable to look at Malfoy. "We have an antidote for you to drink. Please, just drink it."

"No!" Malfoy shouted, and Harry's eyes snapped open. "No, because I don't need it! None of what you've said is true! I'm not under any fucking love potions! How many times do I have to tell you, I'm fucking _fine!_ "

"With all due respect, Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey interrupted, sounding sad, "you are very clearly not fine. This antidote is not a request; it is neither an option nor a suggestion. I'm afraid to say that whether you take it willingly or whether it's administered by force is the only real decision you have here."

"Harry," Draco whimpered, sounding terrified. "Harry, why are you just standing there? Why are you doing nothing, why aren't you helping me? I thought you cared about me, you said you cared about me! I thought you loved me back!"

"I do care about you," Harry said miserably, knowing he would forever be haunted by the memory of this moment. "I care about you so much, Draco, you have no idea. The time we spent together…the way you made me feel…but—" he took a deep breath, bracing himself, "but it ends now. Madam Pomfrey is right, this antidote is not optional. If I have to force your mouth open and pour it straight down your throat, I will."

"You're saying you would hurt me?" Malfoy asked in a tiny voice, eyes wide and face carved in fear. "You're saying you don't want to be with me anymore?"

"I'm doing this to help you, goddamnit!" Harry snapped, feeling frustration and hurt pounding through him in hot spikes. "This is _for_ you, Draco! And I never said I didn't want to be with you anymore, but I'm telling you right now that after you take this antidote, _you_ won't want to be with _me_!"

"That's not true! You know that's not true!"

"Please, Madam Pomfrey," Harry whispered, turning away from the panicked blond. "Please, give him the antidote. And something to calm him down."

She nodded sympathetically, saying "I'm sorry," to Malfoy before casting some sort of paralysis spell over him and opening his mouth, pouring in both vials on the bedside table one at a time and using another spell to help him swallow without choking.

Once his breathing had slowed to normal and the red had faded from his face, she removed both the spell and the bindings holding him captive, peering down at him in concern. "How do you feel now, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes shot up to land on Harry's face, and Harry felt himself want to cry at the way the other boy's eyes widened in fear and absolute terror. He scrambled backward on the bed, farther away from Harry, who did not want to wait to hear Draco scream at him to leave him alone forever.

"Goodbye, Draco," Harry whispered, feeling the dusty remains of his heart completely blow away, leaving him empty and hollow, and needing desperately to get out of that godawful room. "Goodbye."

And without waiting for a response, he turned and ran.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH so much drama! Don't worry though, lovers, the story is not over yet :)


	7. The Kindest Aura Ever Not Seen

One blink.

Two blinks.

The shadows lengthened and stretched, creeping across the dormitory with long ink-colored fingers that seemed to be reaching for him. Harry didn't feel like moving from their path. He continued to lie on his bed, staring at nothing and remembering far too much.

Ron's voice spoke nearby, buzzing like an annoying fly in Harry's ears.

"Do you want to walk down to the village or something?" he asked, and Harry would have rolled his eyes at the stupid question if such a thing did not involve moving. He said nothing in response. "Well, do you want to go throw things in the lake? Or freeze our arses off and go for a fly? You can even bat Bludgers at me if it'll make you feel better."

The words succeeded in earning a snort from Harry.

"He made a sound!" Ron exclaimed, sounding pleased with himself. "Actual proof that he lives!"

"Sod off, I'm not dead," Harry sighed, finally breaking his silence.

"Could've fooled me," Ron shrugged, and Harry turned his face back into the mattress. He lay on his stomach on his bed, ignoring the entire world and everyone in it. Or trying to, at any rate, damn Ron.

"Why are you even here then?" Harry wondered, turning his head to the side to speak more clearly. "I mean, who even talks to dead bodies anyway?"

"Only the most selfless of friends," Ron said seriously, and Harry snorted again.

"Sure."

"Seriously, Harry," Ron said, sounding grim as he dropped down onto his mattress. "You've been sitting up here like this for days now, you've barely managed to drag yourself to classes and you haven't been going to meals. You haven't moved once all weekend."

"That's not true," Harry argued, feeling a headache coming on. "It's not like I've been laying here pissing myself or anything."

Ron rolled his eyes. "All right, you've occasionally been getting up to take a wee, but I'm not really sure how much that counts. If Kreature wasn't bringing you food up from the kitchens every so often, you probably wouldn't even be eating. You need to get up, Harry! You need to get outside! You need to stop moping already!"

"I'm not moping," Harry said in a low voice, telling Ron the truth. He was not moping—he was hiding away in shame and despair. Those two things were clearly not the same. And what did Ron know anyway? Harry had every right to hide away, and certainly every right to mope, which he was clearly _not_. But he clearly _could_ if he wanted to.

"But you're not getting over this either," Ron pointed out, and Harry lifted his head to glare at the stupid statement.

"This isn't something to just _get over_ , Ron," he snapped, feeling anger and pain sweep through him at the memory of the Hospital Wing. "You weren't there, okay? You don't know what it was like, you don't know what happened!"

"Okay, sorry," Ron held up his hands palm out in a gesture of peace. "You're right, it really must have been awful. But, Harry, you can't just lock yourself up here forever as a result! You're Harry Potter, mate, you're a bloody fucking survivor! So grit your teeth and bear it like always, and _survive_ already!"

"Go away," Harry mumbled, turning his face back into his mattress. What the hell did it look like he was doing? Obviously, he was surviving; he was still alive, after all. Ron had no idea what he was talking about.

"All right, Harry," he said in a sad voice, but Harry tensed at the steel edge of resolve to his words. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I see I have no choice."

Marching to the other side of the dorm, Harry heard Ron open the door and allow someone inside, but Harry did not care enough to turn around to face whoever it was. "Go away, Hermione," he muttered instead, folding in on himself even more.

"I come all this way just to see you, and the very first thing you tell me is to go away? Really?" a familiar voice spoke above him, and Harry's head snapped up in surprise, jumping to his feet at the sight of Ginny smiling down at him.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed, still feeling shock course through him as she stepped forward to wrap him in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Ron wrote me," she told him with a frown, stepping back to look Harry up and down. "He told me what happened and told me how bad you were doing and I wanted to come see you."

"I'm doing fine," Harry mumbled, collapsing back into a seated position on his mattress.

"Clearly," she said dryly, dropping down to sit beside him.

He turned his face away, hating the fact that she was able to read him so well.

"You traitor," Harry said, directing his words to Ron, who was standing several meters away silently watching the two of them. "Who the hell calls in their baby sister to fight their battles for them? And who calls someone's ex-girlfriend to come cheer them up? That's just weird."

"Okay, first of all," Ron began, striding closer, "you and I are not battling, so Ginny's definitely not here to tag in for me. Second, she's one of the only people who's ever really been able to make you see reason and get your head out of your arse, you stubborn git. And third, if you're not going to talk to me or Hermione about it, you're bloody well going to talk to someone, and Ginny's always been good at getting you to talk about the things you don't want to talk about. And she does a pretty decent job of making you laugh. So hence, here she is.

"Just a warning, Gin," he said, directing his words to her, "you've got your bloody work cut out for you. He's in a right state, you should know."

"I can see," she said quietly, and Harry turned away from her.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Ron announced, striding back to the door. "If either of you needs anything…well, Hermione's around."

Glaring, Harry watched the redhead leave the dorm without so much as a backward glance. How dare he just walk out like that, without even looking at Harry's glare first? It was a damn good glare; Harry could feel it.

"Don't let your face freeze like that," Ginny said in amusement, and Harry turned the glare onto her. "I mean, I suppose it's not the _worst_ look on you, though. You've always been pretty sexy when you're angry."

"Oh, sod off," Harry muttered, trying not to smile. "Let me be angry then if I'm at least being sexy whilst doing it."

"I never said that was when you were at your _most_ sexy," she grinned, bumping shoulders with him, and he could no longer fight the smile threatening to break out across his face. "Now come on," she said, climbing to her feet and holding out her hand to help him up. "Let's go for a walk. It's been a long time since we last saw each other and we have a lot of catching up to do."

"Go for a walk where?" he asked, eyeing her hand suspiciously.

"I figured we could walk down to Hogsmeade," she shrugged, sighing in exasperation and reaching down to tug him up by the arm when he still did not take her hand. "You need to get out of the castle, and we can go drown all your sorrows in alcohol, yeah?"

"That doesn't sound like the worst idea," Harry admitted grudgingly, catching the heavy cloak Ginny threw at him. Three minutes later and he was dressed in boots and a jumper, pulling the cloak on and grabbing one of his handknitted hats from Molly to tug down over his ears. Ginny grabbed one of them as well with a grin, and Harry shook his head at her in fond amusement.

"What?" she asked innocently. "My mum knitted them, I'm entitled to steal one."

"As long as it's temporary theft," he said sternly, face relaxing as she laughed.

"Come on, grumpy thing," she said with a shake of her head and a smile, reaching down to twine her fingers through his own and pull him from the room. The Gryffindors in the common room all looked up and stared as they watched the two of them cross the room together and climb through the portrait hole.

"Did you wait 'til Saturday to come up here just so you could drag me to the village to get pissed?" Harry asked in a curious voice as they set off toward the Entrance Hall.

"Eh, partly," she shrugged unrepentantly, still smiling. "But also because weekends are the only days I have free. We still train in the off-season, you know."

"How's that going?" Harry wondered genuinely. "Quidditch, I mean. How are you liking the Harpies?"

"Oh, they're bloody fantastic!" she exclaimed, launching into a short but detailed account of the players and how much Ginny loved playing on a team of some of the fiercest women she had ever met.

"Sounds like you should definitely fit in then," he chuckled, earning a good-natured glare.

"Are you implying that I'm scary?" she raised one orange eyebrow at him.

He raised the same eyebrow back. "Are you implying that you've never heard that before?"

She shrugged. "Haven't heard it today, at least."

Any retort Harry had been about to utter died on his tongue as his heart suddenly stopped at the sight of Draco stepping onto the landing near the main entrance and freezing at the sight of them, grey eyes going wide. Oh god, what was Draco doing there? This was the closest the two boys had been since the day of the Hospital Wing; Harry had been successfully managing to avoid him so far.

 _And so of course the universe has to pick_ now _as the time to run into him_ , he thought wryly, unable to remove his gaze from the gorgeous blond. Draco stood several meters away, staring at him with something close to panic in his eyes, before his gaze dropped to Harry's hand still wrapped around Ginny's own and a glare cemented itself onto his face, one that made Harry feel both uncomfortable and confused. He had not noticed until that moment that they were still holding hands.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said quietly, pulling him toward the door, but Harry could see her looking back at Malfoy, a thoughtful expression on her face, and Harry wondered what she was thinking.

"So," she said, waiting until they were safely outside to speak.

"So," he echoed, feeling hollow. God, that had been hard to see Draco; he had not been expecting to feel so shaken.

"Sooo," she nudged him with one sharp elbow, "tell me all about it then."

"All about what?" he said stubbornly, unwilling to open up about any of it that easily.

"Don't make me use force to get the answers, Harry," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Hermione was right when she said that playing dumb really doesn't suit you."

"When the hell did she say that to _you_?" Harry demanded incredulously.

"Hey," Ginny grinned, "if you weren't the one trying to act dumb so often, she wouldn't have to say it so much and to so many people, now, would she?"

"Bint," Harry returned the smile, shaking his head. "Why do I seem to have a thing for only dating evil people?"

"Whatever turns you on, Harry, I make no judgments," she laughed, swinging their arms. "And speaking of evil people and the dating of them…"

"Can we wait to talk about this?" Harry asked in a low voice, "At least until I've got some alcohol in me?"

"Oh, fine," she allowed in a long-suffering tone. "You're buying, just so you know."

Harry surprised himself by chuckling. "I've really missed you, Gin."

She turned a bright smile on him. "And why the hell wouldn't you?"

oOo

"Wow," Ginny said, blinking at him as she tried to process everything Harry had told her. "Wow."

"Yeah," Harry said, tracing the rim of the empty shot glass sitting on the table before him, staring at it for several moments before picking up the full shot glass next to it and downing it in one burning swallow. _Firewhisky hurts_ , he thought absently, setting down the empty glass next to the others.

"Fuck, Harry, I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "I won't lie, that's absolute shite is what that is. What a fucked-up situation."

"Yeah," he repeated, appreciating that Ginny did not try to downplay the true fucked-up shittiness of the awful situation.

"What ended up happening to that blonde bitch, though?" she wondered, and Harry stared at her oddly and with no small amount of offense on Draco's behalf, wondering what she meant. She had just seen Malfoy, after all, she should know that he was fine. "I meant Greengrass," she explained, chuckling as Harry's expression cleared in understanding.

"Suspended," he answered hollowly, "indefinitely. McGonagall is still giving her the chance to sit her N.E.W.T.'s at the end of the year with the other seventh-years, but she's not allowed back at school at all."

"Are either of you going to press charges?"

"I'm not sure if Draco will," he said in a low voice, wishing he knew the answer, wishing that he was in a position to find out the answer from Malfoy himself. "I mean, he might, it seems like something he would want to do, but at the same time, I'm not actually sure if he ever wants to put himself anywhere near another courtroom again, so who knows? I'm not pressing charges though. I just want this whole thing as forgotten as it can be."

"Makes sense," Ginny nodded, tossing back another shot of her own with a grimace.

"It was so awful, Gin," he whispered, shuddering as he copied her and threw back another shot. "I'm not sure if I'm even really doing how awful it was justice in my explanations."

"I can't believe he really tried to kill himself right in front of you," she agreed, eyes sad. Harry shivered as his breath caught at the memory, and Ginny slid closer to link her arm with his own and lay her head on his shoulder. "It'll be okay, Harry," she said in a soothing voice, patting him comfortingly on the thigh. "It'll be okay, just watch. I promise that everything will sort itself out soon, it won't stay horrible forever. Things always get better, no matter how horrible they seem now."

"Well, now you sound just like Hermione," he muttered, compensating for the burning in his eyes by sipping more firewhisky.

"Lucky you, then," she grinned, "surrounding yourself with so many caring, intelligent women."

Harry shook his head in reluctant amusement. "Tell me more about your life, Gin," he said, wanting desperately to get the subject away from himself. "Tell me more about your team, tell me about the people you've met. Are you dating anyone new?"

"No, of course not," she said with a blush, and the obvious lie made Harry grin, poking her and grinning wider as she squirmed in annoyance. "Fine!" she huffed, straightening up and giving him a glare. "Fine, you twat. There's…well, there's this one bloke that I maybe sort of like…"

"Yeah…?" Harry prodded, hoping that her dating life was going much better than his own.

"Yeah," she ducked her head, her face on fire, "he's one of the gear handlers for the team. He's the one in charge of getting everything out and set up and lugging the gear between practices and games and stuff."

"Sounds dreamy already," Harry sniggered, earning a sharp elbow in his side.

"He's…really sweet," she said in an embarrassed voice, blush deepening.

Harry gave her a half-hearted smirk. "And what does mystery man look like?"

"Better hair than yours, definitely," she laughed, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately.

"You say that like it's actually possible," he smiled, and she smiled back as she shook her head.

"I've really missed you, you know," she told him, still smiling. "I was really worried at first when we broke up, you know, _again_ , that things would be awkward between us forever and that we would never be able to talk about things like our love lives with one another," her smile widened and she laid her head back down on Harry's shoulder, slipping her hand back into his and squeezing. "But I'm really glad that we can. I'm really glad that it's just as easy to be around you as it always was. You'll always be my best friend, you know."

"I know," he smiled, resting his cheek on her hair. "You'll always be my best friend too, Gin. Even if you do end up dating some ball-handling bloke with awful hair."

"I said _better_ hair," she laughed, fingers tightening around his own, and Harry finally felt himself beginning to relax, finally feeling the sadness from the past week slowly start to lift under Ginny's cheerful presence.

He had always known he was lucky to have her in his life.

oOo

By the time they stumbled back up to the castle, dusk was falling and they could not stop giggling. Ginny clutched at his arm as she laughed and swayed, cheeks pink as they tripped their way up the stairs into the main hall.

"You are drunk," he said with a grin, and she shook her head fiercely, nearly falling over in the process. Laughing, she clutched at his arm, almost sending them both toppling over. "Stop try'n t'kill me," he slurred, wondering when exactly words had become so difficult.

"You're the one wi'no balance!" she exclaimed, still laughing. "Now come on, you, let's go see Gryffindors!"

"What're you doing?" he wondered as she began pulling him toward the Great Hall. They could hear the sounds of dishes clattering and students laughing on the other side of the large doors. "We already ate dinner. Didn't we? Did we? I thought we did. Now I can't 'member."

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, swaying dizzily as she did so and grimacing. "But I wanna see everyone!"

"You don't even go here," he frowned.

"Irlelevant," she waved one hand, face screwing up as she tried again "Eerilelervant. Fuck, stupid words," she mumbled, punching Harry on the shoulder as he laughed at her.

"Maybe you shouldn'ta left school so soon," he grinned.

"Oh, bollocks," she said, blowing a loud raspberry at him. They opened the doors and Ginny happily tugged him over to the Gryffindor table, beaming up at the ceiling. "God, I've actually missed this place!"

"But has it missed you, is the question," Harry smiled widely, earning another punch on the shoulder.

"Oi!" Ron called, and Harry and Ginny cheerfully skipped over to him and Hermione, swaying on their feet and laughing as they clutched at one another to stay upright. "Where did you two go? And what's wrong with—are you two _pissed_?"

"No!" they both protested simultaneously, turning to one another and laughing.

"Yeah, clearly not," Ron drawled in a sarcastic tone, lips twitching.

"I'm more soberer than I've ever been in my entire life," Harry proclaimed, holding up one hand in promise and nearly smacking Ginny in the face with it, who laughed even as she punched him on the shoulder again. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing the spot. "Your sister is violent, Won-Won!"

At the nickname, Ginny nearly fell over laughing, holding onto the table as she bent double and gasped for breath. "Won-Won!" she cackled, and Harry had to hold onto her to keep himself from falling over as well, he was laughing so hard.

"Oh, just sit down already before you two fall over," Ron sighed in exasperation.

"Wight-o, Won-Won!" Ginny smirked, snapping him a salute and laughing as he returned it with a rude hand gesture.

"So where have you two been?" Hermione asked, looking between the two of them disapprovingly as they both struggled into the seats across from Ron and Hermione.

"Village," Ginny shrugged, reaching across the table to snag Ron's glass of pumpkin juice, ignoring his huffed "Oi!" as she drained it with a grin. "On'y place t'get real firewhishky 'round here."

"Firewhishky?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," she nodded happily. "I made Harry pay for it all. On account of him being super rich and everything."

"I'm not super rich," he frowned. "Just, you know…sort of moneyed now. Kind of. Most of it was Sirius's."

"Yes, silly," she said, poking him in the chest and swaying backwards unevenly, "but now it's yours. Sooo…accept your richness already and deal with it."

Harry grinned. "Just as long as you accept the fact that you stupidly gave up such a rich boyfriend. And all for some dreamy ball boy with bad hair."

The comment set them both off laughing again, earning confused looks from Ron and Hermione.

"Well, at least you seem to be doing better," Hermione said, still looking between him and Ginny.

"Hard not to 'round her," Harry grinned, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and messing up her hair, laughing as she struggled to get free. "Won-Won's wight earlier, 'bout her being fun t'be 'round, and all that. Right laugh, she is, when she's not being violent."

"Who says I can't be both at the same time?" she demanded, finally fighting free from Harry's hold, who collapsed on the table in a fit of laughter at the sight of her disheveled auburn hair sticking up everywhere.

"Your hair looks like mine!" he wheezed, laughing harder at her glare and the sight of her twitching lips.

"Not even after four straight hours of flying," she argued, paying him back by tousling his hair with both hands, making him laugh even harder as he weakly tried to wave her away.

"Stop, you'll make it worse!"

"It can't never be worse, tha's my point!" she slurred, chuckling as she finally released him only to rest her head on his shoulder. "Aw," she cooed, patting his thigh. "Look at his poor, messy hair, like a li'l kitten or something. A grumpy li'l kitten with black hair. Isn't he so precioush?"

"You two are insane," Ron shook his head in obvious amusement.

"We're more saner than anybody else here!" Harry disagreed loudly. "Definitely more saner than _you_ , at least, you orange prat."

"Orange prat?" Ron repeated in disbelief, raising one orange eyebrow.

Harry nodded with a grin.

"Miss Weasley," a familiar stern voice said above them, snapping their attention up onto the Headmistress, who had somehow snuck up behind Harry without his knowing, making him frown and wonder if his danger-detecting instincts were somehow fading in the wake of the war.

Or maybe he really was just drunk.

"Hello, Professor!" Ginny greeted cheerfully, beaming up at McGonagall, and Harry could have sworn he saw the older woman's lips twitch.

"May I ask what you are doing here, sitting at the Gryffindor table, seeing as you are no longer a student and therefore no longer a Gryffindor?"

"You can never stop being a Gryffindor!" Ginny protested, nodding seriously. "At least, not in your heart. My heart is still one hundred percent Gryffindor!"

At that, Harry knew for sure he saw McGonagall's lips twitch. "I see," she said, shaking her head. "As pleased as I am to hear such impassioned declarations from a former student, that still does not answer the question of what you are doing in a school you no longer attend. I was under the impression that you had left your studies to pursue a career in Quidditch."

"That is the correct impression to be under, Professor," Ginny beamed. "And it's much better than school. Much, much better. Much, much, much—"

"She's here to see me, Professor," Harry interrupted, noting that McGonagall's lips did not seem to be twitching very much anymore. "She came to, er, cheer me up. Because this week has been no fun. For me. At all. Until Gin came 'round."

"I see," McGonagall said quietly, and Harry noticed that her gaze turned sympathetic. "Very well, then, Mr Potter, Miss Weasley, just do be sure that you are behaving yourselves and acting appropriately. Remember that the both of you, especially you, Mr Potter, are an example to all the younger students, yes?"

"Yes, right, we promise, Professor, best behavior only," Harry nodded, glad when the woman turned and swept away.

"What does that mean?" Ginny demanded, looking around at the three of them. "Why aren't I just as much of an example as _this_ one?" She jabbed a thumb in Harry's direction. "I'm a much betterer example, I'll have that woman know! I'm the youngest player to be signed on to the Harpies in twenty-nine years! That record is older than all of us, and I bloody shattered it, like a goddamn _legend_!"

"Of course you're a betterer example," Ron grinned, laughing at Ginny's outrage. "He's just a sad mope who doesn't even _play_ Quidditch anymore."

"Right," Ginny agreed, laughing as it was now Harry's turn to appear outraged.

"I still can! Just 'cos I _don't_ doesn't mean I _can't_ ," he grumbled. "I just choose not to! I'm being noble, really, letting someone else take my place on the team! That makes me even _more_ of an example!"

"A bettererer example?" Ron suggested, and Harry nodded firmly.

"Exactly."

"You three are ridiculous," Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you really shouldn't be drinking, even on a weekend. You still have studies and homework, you know."

"I needed it, 'Mione," Harry said sadly, turning his saddest puppy dog eyes on her and wondering if they actually looked as heartbreaking in reality as he pictured them to look in his head. "I was all sad and mopey, 'member? And Gin came to cheer me up! With alcohol! Only," he felt his nose scrunch, "not with gin. Gin doesn't drink gin."

Ginny laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. "Gin definitely doesn't drink gin," she sniggered. "Gin says 'fuck off' to gin."

"Gin should drink some coffee," Hermione said sternly, sounding so much like McGonagall that Harry automatically glanced around himself to make sure the Headmistress hadn't wandered back. "Gin has to Apparate back home soon."

"Not for hours," she waved Hermione's stern suggestion away. "Let's go back up to the common room or down to the lake or something. We can go visit Hagrid! Or we can go feed the Thestrals! Or hunt for marnadines with Luna! They're meant to come out in winter!"

"You've done that too?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, leaning around Harry to yell, "Luna!" very loudly in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, succeeding in drawing the attention of quite a lot of people, all of whom she ignored as she yelled again, "Luna! Get over here and explain what marnerdines are!"

A minute later, Luna wandered over from the Ravenclaw table with a happy smile, taking the empty seat next to Ginny and smiling even wider as Ginny turned to wrap her in a tight hug.

"Hello, Ginny," she greeted, returning the hug with a pleased expression. "It was very kind of you to call me over. I wanted to come say hi earlier, but I wasn't sure if I would be intruding. I've missed you, you know. I was telling Harry how much I missed you not too long ago. It's good to see the two of you together again."

"It's true, she did say that she missed you," Harry nodded. "Apparently Luna thinks you're nice for some reason. Prob'ly 'cos she doesn't actually know how violent and evil you really are."

"Oh no," Luna disagreed, smiling at Ginny. "She's not evil at all; she has a very kind aura."

"Ha!" Ginny said triumphantly, turning to Harry with a smug look.

"Well, what's _my_ aura?" he wondered, rolling his eyes at the redheaded girl next to him.

"Yours is very impassioned," Luna said seriously, "very driven and determined. You can tell just by looking at it that you have a strong intolerance for injustices and are willing to do anything for those you love."

"Ha back!" Harry said, turning to Ginny with a smug look of his own.

"Ha what?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"Er…" Harry's nose scrunched up as he thought. "I dunno, but, ha. In your face."

"Right," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey, what's my aura?" Ron asked, leaning forward to speak to Luna, who turned to him with a smile.

"Yours is very loyal and amicable," she told him, and Ron turned to both Harry and Ginny with a smug look of his own, the expression vanishing as Luna continued, "Even if you don't always act on those two attributes. It's still a very strong aura."

"Hey!" he huffed, glaring as Harry, Ginny, and even Hermione laughed at him.

"And Hermione's is very tranquil," Luna continued, "and very harmonious. There's a definite edge of strong intellectualism to it, but there's also a very deep and ardent undercurrent of protectiveness and love. You can tell by her aura that she is the heart of the group and usually the one holding everyone and everything together. She has much more of a steadfast, unwavering sort of aura."

"That's my Hermione," Ron grinned, pulling her close enough to press a kiss to her cheek. "The heart of the group for damn sure, we wouldn't have been anywhere without her."

"You two are really very sweet together," Luna said in a faraway voice, sounding wistful. "I notice how much the two of you seem to care for one another; it's lovely to watch. I've always wanted someone to be sweet to me like that."

"You'll find someone, Luna," Ginny said, patting her hand. "You're just surrounded by stupid teenage idiots at the moment who don't know how to value true in-dividual-ism," she pronounced slowly, beaming once the word was out. "But one day soon, you will find someone smart who's able to app-re-chi-ate," she paused to beam again at the difficult word that had slurred its way free, "you for how special and beautiful you really are."

"Thank you, Ginny," Luna said bashfully, ducking her head and fighting a rare blush. Had Harry ever seen her blush before? He wasn't sure. "That's a very kind thing to say."

"Well, I can't help it," she grinned, "it's just my aura, I have no control over it."

"Are we hunting marnerdrines, or what?" Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes at Ginny.

"Oh! Would you like to come with me?" Luna asked happily, eyes sparkling. "I would love the company. It can get very cold and lonely out there by myself."

"I'm in," Harry shrugged. "We didn't catch any last time."

"You're not meant to catch them," Ginny told him, shaking her head, "you're meant to _see_ them. Right, Luna?"

"I can't believe you remember what they are," Luna said with a smile. "I was sure you would have forgotten all about them."

"Of course not," Ginny laughed. "No one can ever forget where they were the first time they heard about marnarerdrines, right, Harry?"

"Right," he grinned, the smile lessening as he thought back to that conversation he had shared with Luna by the lake all those lifetimes ago, when she had comforted him through his confusion over Draco. It felt like he had become a completely different person since then.

Suddenly unable to help himself, Harry twisted around in his seat, searching out the Slytherin table and startling visibly as he found himself suddenly gazing into furious grey eyes glaring into his own. Why the hell was Malfoy so angry? He looked livid as he glared at Harry, and Harry felt miserable at the realization that Malfoy really did hate Harry every bit as much as Harry had feared he would—it was more than obvious from his expression.

He would never forgive Harry; he hated him forever now.

"Come on, then," Harry sighed, suddenly much less enthused than he had been only seconds earlier. "Let's go see if we can see any marnarnardines." His tongue stumbled over the final word but no one corrected him as they climbed to their feet, Hermione appearing much less certain than the rest of them.

"Hey," Ginny said quietly, slipping her hand into his and squeezing as they slowly made their way toward the door. "It'll be okay, Harry, you'll see. It'll all work out."

"Bloody optimistic aura of yours," Harry said, doing his best to smile.

"Kindest aura you've ever not seen, admit it," she grinned, and he felt his lips stretch into a real smile.

"I'm really glad you came all the way out here, Gin."

"So am I," her smile softened for a moment before widening once more. "After all, where the hell else am I gonna see a bloody merdnerdrine?"

Harry laughed, glad that he was not the only one having trouble with that damned word. "Mandananrindes," he said slowly, laughing harder at the way the syllables tripped their way drunkenly over his tongue like clumsy stones. "Do you even know what they are?"

"Not a bloody clue," Ginny chuckled. "But you don't really need to know what a make-believe animal looks like to not see it, do you?"

"No, s'pose not," Harry grinned, the smile vanishing as he allowed himself one more glance at the Slytherin table before they left the Great Hall.

Malfoy was still glaring, and all Harry could do was turn away with a pained feeling tightening his chest, making it hurt to breathe.

All he could do was miss Draco from a distance.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left on this little angst-filled journey of ours!


	8. Near an Open Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter, my loves! Are we ready? Are we braced? Are we buckled in and prepared for reconciliations? I sure as hell hope so, because here we go right now!

The corridor was cold. The air felt like ice around him. It was silent and cold, and Harry honestly was not sure what had made him drag himself from the warmth of his bed and out through the portrait hole, but something was making him restless, making him itch for a nighttime stroll. He had lain in bed for hours, twitching and fidgeting and unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Draco would not stop invading his mind, taking it over in a way that made Harry want to scream.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since the Hospital Wing, and the thoughts were still not getting any better; Harry was still having trouble sleeping. He couldn't sleep at night and he couldn't focus in class, and he wasn't sure how to get his mind back onto the things he should actually be thinking about instead of evil blond prats who weren't actually evil prats at all, but secretly sweet and beautiful and loving and possessed the ability to suck Harry's sanity out through a single kiss.

Without consciously choosing a destination or telling his brain where to lead him, Harry found himself outside the East Tower, wondering if he should actually go inside or just go back to bed.

"May as well torture myself even more," Harry muttered to himself, easing the heavy door open enough to slip inside, shivering as he realized it was even colder in the tower than it was in the corridor. Pulling out his wand to cast a warming charm over himself, he froze as he heard a noise, a soft sound like someone shifting, and Harry's head whipped up, gasping at the sight that met him.

Draco stood near the open window, gazing down at the ground miles below, silver hair shining like moonlight. His skin was so pale that it did not even appear to be real; he looked for all the world to be carved from marble or porcelain, and Harry wanted to drift close enough to touch him, just to find out if his skin really was made of cold stone or if Harry would feel warm flesh beneath his fingertips.

"What are you doing here?" Harry blurted suddenly, startling himself into gasping again at the unexpected question; he was pretty sure he had not actually been intending to speak.

Malfoy jumped violently, spinning around to face Harry, both boys' eyes growing wide with panic at the sight of one another.

"Harry," he choked out, pressing back into the wall behind him.

"What are you doing right next to the window?" Harry asked, sounding upset as he wondered just what the hell Draco had come up to that tower to do. He did not like the sight of Malfoy standing anywhere near that goddamn window, especially while it was flung wide open.

"Just looking," Malfoy flushed, dropping his gaze. "I—I wasn't going to do anything. That's not what I came up here for." His voice was bitter and defensive, and Harry felt his jaw tighten as he nodded, hating how uncomfortable he now felt around the boy he thought he might have been falling in love with so short a time ago, before the entire world had imploded in burning pain and hurt feelings.

"Right," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from clenching. "Well. Have fun looking then, I guess. Sorry, I'll leave you alone." He turned to leave but was stopped by the sound of his name.

"Harry," Draco called, and Harry automatically turned his head, wondering what Malfoy wanted. Did he want another apology? Did he want to shout horrid things at Harry and accuse him of sexual assault? Harry wouldn't blame him at all if he did. He probably would have done the exact same thing in the other boy's place.

"Potter," Draco corrected himself a moment later, speaking to the floor, and Harry felt his stomach drop at the painful regression back to surnames. It looked like they were right back to the clearly defined and oh-so-distant rules that Harry had wanted for them at the very beginning of this whole mess.

"Yeah?" he asked in a flat, resigned voice.

"I—" Malfoy cleared his throat, taking one small step forward. "I—I wanted to talk to you."

"Right," Harry sighed heavily, already knowing what the blond wanted to say. "Well, that's fair. If you need to yell at me or hex me or punch me in the face, or whatever it is you need to do, I won't stop you."

"What?" Draco asked sharply, taking another step forward in surprise as his head snapped up. "Why would you think I would want to do any of those things?"

"Because," Harry shrugged, waving one hand in frustration, "because of everything that happened. Because—because I'd deserve it, I s'pose."

"I—Harry…" Draco looked lost for a moment, standing before the window in a halo of silver moonlight, appearing small and confused and lost in the cold darkness of the vast night sky behind him, and the sight made Harry's heart hurt. "Potter…"

Harry's heart hurt even more at the sound of his surname.

"That's not what I wanted, that's not what I was planning on doing," Draco said, taking another step forward.

"What, then?" Harry asked, unsure how to name any of the dozens of emotions howling fiercely throughout him, clamoring loudly enough to nearly drown out the beating of his hammering heart or the deafening rush of blood in his ears. "What do you want, Draco?"

At the sound of his name, Malfoy's eyes widened as a fusillade of emotions flickered across his face, much too quickly for Harry to be able to name any of them, and he wondered if Draco was feeling the same sort of hurricanic inner turmoil that he himself was. "I…I wanted to say…" Draco hesitated, continuing to take small steps forward and gradually lessening the distance between the two boys.

"Say what?" Harry prodded wearily, longing to reach out and touch the blond just to see if he was real or if he was simply a figment of Harry's obsessed imagination.

"I wanted to say…" Draco flushed and ducked his head, "that…I'm sorry."

The two words surprised Harry and he stared at Malfoy with shocked eyes. "Sorry?" he croaked, uncertain if he had really heard that correctly. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"

"For…" Draco seemed nonplussed for a moment, staring at Harry with wonder in his eyes.

No, Harry decided, studying him more closely. It was more like incredulity. _No,_ he corrected himself a moment later with a grimace as he finally understood the expression—Malfoy was staring at him like he was finding Harry to be particularly stupid, possibly the stupidest person in the whole of existence, most likely.

_Not too wrong there._

"For everything," Malfoy said in an obvious tone of voice. "What do you mean 'what for'?"

"You don't need to apologize," Harry shrugged awkwardly, ducking his face as he felt himself blush. He didn't want Draco to apologize, it only made Harry feel worse by reminding him that Draco really was sorry for everything that had happened between them. "I know that none of it was your fault, Draco, and I don't blame you for anything. So, please, just…don't apologize to me. I'm the one who should say sorry."

"Well, what the hell are _you_ apologizing for?" Malfoy asked with raised eyebrows, the same incredulous look from earlier back on his face.

"What do you mean 'what for'?" Harry echoed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture he knew was far too defensive. "For allowing everything to go as far as it did and for taking advantage of you and for making you nearly…you—you nearly—" He cut himself off with a frantic shake of his head, unwilling to even say the words aloud; the silent memories were haunting enough.

"Harry," Draco said in a pained voice, and Harry's heart couldn't help but skip a beat at the sound of his given name once again falling from those familiar lips; sometimes it felt like Harry could still taste them against his own.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry whispered, clenching his eyes shut as the memory of that horrid night in the East Tower swept over him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Potter," Malfoy snapped, sounding angry, and Harry relaxed at the sound of the other boy's anger. Finally, a response he had been expecting, an emotion that made sense to him.

Harry said nothing, choosing to stare down at his shoes as he tried not to crumble to pieces. God, he missed Draco, and even when Draco sounded angry with him, it was hard not to walk over to him and wrap his arms around the other boy before burying his face in Malfoy's neck just to breathe him in.

The sound of footsteps had Harry glancing up, and he was surprised to find Draco much closer than he had been seconds ago. "It's not your fault, Harry," he said quietly, eyes searching Harry's face, and he had no idea what they were looking for.

"I'm just glad you're all right," Harry whispered, studying Malfoy's face just as intently.

"No thanks to Astoria," Draco said wryly, sighing. "She is the one at fault here you understand, certainly not _you_."

Harry nodded, gaze falling back to the floor. Did it even matter at that point whose fault it was? Knowing that it was Astoria's fault did not make the ache in Harry's chest any less painful. It didn't make him miss Draco any less than he already did.

"I'm…" Malfoy seemed to struggle with himself for a moment and Harry glanced up in confusion, waiting for him to finish whatever he was trying to say. "I'm glad that…" he exhaled loudly, appearing to be steeling himself for his next words, "I'm glad that you're all right too. I mean, I'm glad that you're happy now."

"Happy?" Harry's eyes narrowed, feeling fury crackle through him. _What?_ "Are you taking the piss or something, Malfoy?"

"No!" Draco's eyes widened. "No, that's not—what does that even mean? Why would you even think that?"

" _I'm glad that you're happy now,_ " Harry said in a high-pitched voice, trying to imitate Draco's posh accent. "How is that not taking the piss?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked in confusion, nose wrinkling. "How is that taking the piss?"

"What do you mean 'how'?!" Harry shouted, feeling suddenly furious. "Maybe because I'm so obviously _not_ all right, and I sure as hell am not _happy!_ What the hell even gave you that stupid idea anyway?!"

"B-because," Malfoy stammered, appearing taken aback, "because I saw you last week! I saw you as you were heading out on your date and then I saw you later in the Great Hall, remember? When you were laughing and smiling and you and Weasley were all over each other!"

" _Ron?"_ Harry said in a disgusted voice, wondering just what the hell Malfoy was on about. "You think I went on a date with _Ron_? First of all, gross! Second of all, _fucking gross!_ Third of all, he has a sodding girlfriend! And fourth of all, _extremely fucking gross!_ "

"No, not Ron, you idiot," Draco snapped, and Harry glared as the same expression from earlier—the one that said that Harry was the world's biggest idiot—crossed Malfoy's pale face once more. "I meant his sister! Obviously," he added, crossing his arms and returning Harry's glare.

"You mean Ginny?" Harry's nose wrinkled in confusion. "What about me and Ginny? What _date_ , what are you talking about?"

"Have you always been this moronic or was I simply blinded to your stupidity by that damn potion?" Malfoy ground out, clenching his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples. "The date that I saw the two of you leave the castle grounds for! When you skipped out of here laughing and holding hands, and then came back to the Great Hall fucking laughing and holding hands!" He opened his eyes to glare at Harry for several seconds before the angry expression faded into a look of utter misery. "And that's fine, Harry, really. I mean, it's not like I have any reason to object or anything, right? All I'm trying to say is—" he took a deep breath, closing his eyes once more before speaking, "—that I'm glad that you seem happy. That's all. Because I know that I never did. Make you happy, I mean. I tried, but…I never did. All I ever seemed able to do was make you miserable."

Harry could not say a word. All he could do was stare. What was Malfoy saying? Was he saying that he would object to Harry's supposed involvement with Ginny if he could? Was Malfoy saying that he _wanted_ to object to Harry being involved with someone else?

"So, I'm glad you have her, then, if she makes you happy," Draco finished in a small voice, speaking down to his feet.

"But I don't," Harry whispered, taking a step forward without even realizing what he was doing.

"Huh?" Draco glanced up to eye Harry in confusion.

"I don't have her," the brunet said slowly, "I don't have Ginny. Ginny and I aren't…we're not together."

"Well, you sure did a fantastic job of fooling the entire castle," the Slytherin muttered angrily. "I'm just trying to apologize here, Potter, and tell you that I'm glad that you're happy, all right? You don't need to lie to me just to spare my feelings."

"You're not making any sense, Draco!" Harry glared, wondering what new mind-game this was that Malfoy was trying to play. "How would I be able to spare your feelings if I don't even know what the hell your feelings are in the first place?"

"Well, you never asked!" Malfoy shouted, sounding as upset as Harry felt.

"And why would I when I know how much you hate me?!" Harry shouted back, fists clenched at his sides.

"Now who's not making sense, Potter?! What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?!"

"What do you mean, what does it mean?!" Harry felt a headache coming on; he could not seem to keep up with this sort of circular arguing. "I know that you don't feel anything for me now that the potion is gone! And I know that you hated me even before any of this mess started! So now that the potion's gone, you're right back to where you were before, which is hating my guts! You probably hate me even more because of everything that's happened! And I knew that you would never want to speak to me again, so why the hell would I try to force my company on you after I,"—Harry winced, falling back several steps as hot shame swept through him—"after I've forced so much on you already?"

"You didn't force anything on me, Potter," Draco whispered, eyes round with surprise as he stared at Harry with a look so intense Harry could practically feel it slicing into him.

"Yes, I did," he said with another heavy flinch. "I basically _assaulted_ you, Draco! More than once! And I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I never meant to. I never wanted to—"

"You didn't assault me," Draco shook his head, still speaking in that strange scratchy whisper. "If anything, I assaulted _you_. _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing for that."

Harry laughed hollowly, feeling empty. "You didn't know what you were doing, Draco, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't control yourself."

"I couldn't," Malfoy said suddenly, sounding desperate, and Harry flinched. "I couldn't control myself, Harry, and the things I did to you… _fuck_ , I'm sorry, all right? I've been trying to figure out a way to approach you about it ever since the day at the Hospital Wing, but…I'm really not any good at apologizing at the best of times, let alone for something this serious."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion, trying to sort out what exactly it was that Malfoy was talking about.

"The way…" Malfoy bit his lip, face carved in misery and regret, "that time, in the corridor. What I did to you. The first time it happened…and then, what you told me, what you explained to me…and then…"

"And then it happened again," Harry finished in a quiet voice, shifting his weight between both feet uncomfortably. That was nothing more than another memory to be haunted by at this point; Harry had entire collections of them.

This time it was Draco's turn to flinch. "I meant it, what I said…I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. Not until after, when you snapped me out of it. It was like…there was just this anger, like nothing I had ever felt before, and this voice inside of me telling me that I needed to do whatever it took to make you admit those words to us both. It was like…all I could think about was what _I_ wanted, and I could focus on nothing else. In those moments, it truly didn't matter what _you_ wanted, as long as I got what I wanted first."

"I should have known right then," Harry shook his head sadly. "I should have known that something was wrong. I could see that something wasn't right with you, but I just…I dunno, it never even crossed my mind to think it could ever have been something like _that_."

"It's okay, Potter," Draco said, matching the brunet's sad expression. "As I said, you're not the one at fault and you're hardly the one I hold responsible."

"You really have changed," Harry whispered, hearing an edge of wonder in his voice. "When this whole thing started, I just couldn't understand that you seemed to have changed so much from the person I once knew…and then, after it all came out and everything ended so horribly, I had to try and figure out if any parts of you had been real or if it had all been the potion, but…" he trailed off as he found himself unsure what to say.

"But what?" Malfoy breathed, taking a step forward.

"But, I dunno," Harry shrugged uncomfortably, keeping his gaze fixed on Malfoy's shoes. "Maybe you're not too different from the Draco I knew. I mean," an awkward laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I know that…I know that you would never have done some of those things and never approached me like that or ever had feelings for me in the first place or anything,"—he felt himself cringe and prayed that Malfoy had not noticed—"but, I dunno, maybe you're not as much of a stranger as I had thought before tonight."

"Harry…" Draco murmured, sounding uncertain. "Are you really—are you really not back together with your ex-girlfriend?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "She's interested in someone else, some other bloke she knows through Quidditch."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No, of course not," he shrugged, still feeling uncomfortable. "We're just friends now. Really good friends, mind you, but just friends. She's my best friend, but that's all we'll ever be."

"If that's really true, then…" Draco took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for nearly half a minute before releasing it in a loud, nervous sigh. "I would like to tell you something."

"Okay," Harry said cautiously, feeling his knees tremble. Deciding that standing could go to hell, Harry walked over to the large table he had sat on the first time they had ever met in the room they were in, sinking down into a seated position atop its surface.

Watching him cautiously, Draco walked forward as well and, still eyeing Harry as though fearful the brunet would either sprint from the room or punch him in the face, he perched on the table next to Harry warily, staring at his hands in silence for entire minutes.

"What did you want to tell me?" Harry finally asked, unable to take the tense silence any longer.

"I, well…" Draco took a deep breath. "It's about Astoria, actually. I wanted to tell you the real reason she chose me for the potion."

"I already know," Harry mumbled, heart plummeting. If Draco were about to explain to his face how little chance they had ever have had of falling in love—or at least of Draco ever returning his feelings—Harry did not want to hear it. It had been painful enough to hear it the first time from Hermione.

"No," the blond said softly, still speaking down to the fingers he kept twisting together in his lap, "you don't, actually. Because I know what Astoria told McGonagall her reason was, but…that wasn't actually the reason."

"It wasn't?" Harry's head snapped up in shock. "What does that mean? What was her real reason? Why would she lie?"

Draco smiled a bitter, twisted, almost haunted smile at the brunet, one that made Harry shiver. "I doubt you were aware of this, but Astoria and I were actually betrothed at one point."

"Betrothed?" Harry repeated, mouth falling open. "You and Astoria were fucking _betrothed?"_ He gaped at Draco for several seconds. "Who the actual fuck gets _betrothed_ these days?"

Draco's smile twisted even more. "It's still a fairly regular practice amongst the older pureblood families. My parents were betrothed practically since childhood, as well as my Aunt Bellatrix with her husband. Andromeda had been betrothed too before she chose her own husband and ran off with him instead; that's actually the main reason she was disowned. It wasn't so much about marrying a Muggle-born as it was about the fact that her husband was not the man that her parents had chosen for her."

"That's sick," Harry whispered, feeling horrified. "Your parents would really have made you marry someone you don't even love? _Why_ _?"_

Draco shrugged, studying his knee as he answered in a quiet voice, "Keeping the bloodlines pure, keeping them magically strong, gaining wealth or land, forming and preserving alliances, sometimes joining two households into one even more powerful household, things of that nature."

"That's sick," Harry repeated, trying to ignore the nausea churning his stomach. He could not imagine ever being forced to marry for something as awful as family politics as opposed to love.

"Yes," Draco agreed, nodding down at his knee. "And my parents had chosen Astoria. Daphne was undoubtedly their first choice, but she has been betrothed to Theodore Nott since they were eight."

" _Eight?_ " Harry whispered in shock, unsure how to even respond to such a statement, especially when it was spoken in such a casual tone of voice, as though what Draco was saying was not one of the most horrifying things Harry had ever heard. "But they couldn't even know what type of person Nott would become at that age! And they were fine practically just giving their daughter away to him at the age of _eight_? What if by the time they had grown up and were finally of age to marry, he had become someone horrible? Someone you would never actually want your daughter married to if you really loved her?"

Draco shrugged. "Without a very good reason, and I mean a damn solid reason, once these things are negotiated and contracts are drawn up, they will almost always go through with it, no matter how much the couple may not like one another upon marrying."

"That's one of the most disgusting things I've ever heard," Harry said in a low voice, unable to comprehend the layers of horror embedded within such a story. "Please tell me that you're no longer betrothed to her!"

"No," Draco smiled—a hard, bitter expression. "No, with my parents' public disgrace and my father's lifetime sentence to Azkaban, the contract was nullified, since the magic for such a binding—one with a preexisting contract such as the particular one our parents had drawn up—requires both of our fathers to be there in person to perform certain familial bonding spells, and without him there, the marriage would be one of law only and not of magic, which is more often than not the entire point of these ceremonies."

Harry nodded, pretending to understand what any of those words meant. He had no idea where Draco was going with this story, but he found himself leaning closer as he hung on Malfoy's every word.

"But once it was called off…" Draco sighed, flicking an imaginary speck of lint from his trousers, "Astoria still wanted to marry me. She told me that she didn't care about some magical contract, all she wanted was the marriage, and she was fine if it was one solely of law and not of magic."

"But?" Harry prodded, still unsure what to make of anything or how to feel about any of what he had heard so far.

"But I said no," Draco told him in a quiet voice, still not looking at Harry. "I told her that I could never love her. She demanded to know why, demanding that I tell her what was wrong with her, why I had used the word 'never', why I wouldn't even give myself the chance to love her…" he fell silent for several moments, "and so, I made the mistake of telling her the truth."

"What's the truth?" Harry whispered, leaning even closer and finally succeeding in capturing Draco's attention. The blond glanced up, inhaling sharply at how close Harry's face now was to his own. "What's the truth, Draco?"

"I told her that I'm gay," he confessed, eyes sliding shut as a grimace crossed his face. "And she started crying and pleading with me to reconsider, asking how I could know for certain that I was gay and not just confused or in denial about my real feelings for her," he shook his head in disgust, "and that's when…I told her…"

"What, Draco?" Harry asked, feeling mesmerized by every word that fell from Malfoy's mouth. What was the blond trying to say?

"I told her…" Malfoy paused again, flushing bright red as he turned his face away from Harry, "I told her that it was too late because I was already in love with someone else. Another man."

"And did you tell her who it was?" Harry wondered in a daze. Was Draco trying to say what Harry hoped he was trying to say?

"No," he shook his head. "But—the first week of term, she broke into my dorm and stole my journal, the one I had been keeping since sixth year. It happened to, erm, mention this person, um, rather a lot," he blushed, "and she read it and decided to take revenge on me instead, and by extension, him. So she began attempting to make her very own love potion, experimenting with different levels of strength and potency, wanting to make one that would be much more subtle and much less likely for the effects to be instantly noticed by those around the drinker. It wouldn't have been as much fun for her, you see, if the potion had been discovered before I had had a chance to make any sort of move on the unsuspecting target."

"What are you saying, Draco?" Harry asked in a numb voice, wondering if Draco was really saying that Harry was the person Malfoy had been writing about in his journal, the person Malfoy had—Harry gulped—fallen in love with before they had ever even gotten together.

"She wanted to punish me," Malfoy whispered, sounding pained. "She thought it would be the perfect revenge. She had been humiliated by my refusing her, even if my sexuality would never have allowed for anything between us, and thought that by slipping me a love potion designed to make me unable to help but act on my pre-existing desire for you and fall into a different state of obsession, rather than real love, it would be the perfect revenge. She believed that there was no way that you would ever even consider me as a romantic interest, let alone return my feelings. She thought that if she gave me the potion, I would grow even more obsessed with you and throw myself at you—hopefully somewhere embarrassingly public, I'm sure—and get immediately rejected, becoming heartbroken and humiliated and I would then finally understand just what it was that I had done to her." Draco gulped, eyes sad. "But that's not what happened. I did become obsessed even more with you, and did approach you, and did throw myself at you, but…"

"But I ended up returning the feelings," Harry said softly. His tone was as hollow as his insides felt, unable to process any of what Malfoy had told him. What did that mean? Did that mean that Draco might possibly still…?

"Yes," Draco breathed, an anguished expression crossing his face. "Something neither Astoria nor I would ever have believed could happen, not in a million years. And yet…"

"So then what happened?" Harry asked, still sounding so hollow. "How did you find all of this out?"

"She wrote me a letter," the blond admitted, expression twisting. "As soon as she found out what I had nearly done…" he paused to glance around the room with uneasy eyes, swallowing uncomfortably. "She wrote me a letter explaining it all and begging for my forgiveness, claiming that she had only ever wanted to see me humiliated, but she had never wanted to actually see me dead, especially in a misguided, suicidal attempt at earning back your forgiveness for actions also taken under the magical duress of the potion."

"I doubt she'll ever know how awful that night really was," Harry whispered, staring at the window with distant eyes.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy apologized, and Harry could hear the burning shame in those two short words.

"Wasn't your fault," Harry shrugged, still staring at the open window, the same one that Draco had tried his hardest to throw himself through.

"Doesn't mean I'm not sorry."

"I've missed you, you know." Harry wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to admit to such a thing; he still wasn't even sure just who exactly he was talking to—was this Draco sitting beside him, or Malfoy? The way he had been speaking to Harry, so soft and remorseful, made Harry think that it might just be Draco; had he found Draco again? God, Harry had missed Draco so much. All he wanted was a chance to find out what might have been between the two of them without any damned potions forcing either of their hands. Was Draco really saying what Harry thought he was?

At the admission, Malfoy's breath caught. "Have you?" He turned cautious eyes on Harry, and Harry finally looked away from the window to meet the other boy's gaze.

"Yeah, I have," Harry said quietly, eyes searching Malfoy's face. "I was never under any potion, Draco. Everything I felt for you…" he laughed hollowly, raking a trembling hand through his hair, "it was all real."

"…everything?" Draco asked in a tiny voice, the single word edged in both hope and fear.

"I thought you hated me," Harry turned away, unable to look at the raw emotion shaping Draco's face. "After the morning of the Hospital Wing. I was so sure you went right back to hating me. But…I never stopped missing you, Draco."

"Harry," Draco gasped, and Harry startled at the feel of a hand combing shaking fingers gently through the side of his hair, and Harry could not help but close his eyes at the feeling. "I was so sure, after everything I had put you through, that you would never be willing to even look in my direction ever again. But…" the final word trembled in the air between them, and Harry knew that this, right here, this moment, might just be the most significant moment of his life.

This was the moment that would decide his entire future.

"Draco," he murmured, turning to run his own shaking fingers through Draco's hair, smiling at the silken feel. "You still wear your hair loose. I was sure that…"

"That what?" Draco breathed, sounding as though his lungs were not working properly.

"That…I dunno," Harry confessed in a quiet voice, fingers still combing through the soft strands, "that you…wouldn't want the reminder, I suppose. Or that you would try to separate yourself as much as you could from the person you had been under the potion's influence."

Malfoy laughed a tiny, gasping laugh. "And yet here I was trying anything I could not to have you see me as the person I used to be. I was trying to separate myself as much as I could from the person I had been _before_ the potion's influence."

"It turns out I might actually like the person you were before the potion's influence," Harry whispered, shifting closer, "even if I never really knew who that person was."

"I'm not that person anymore." Malfoy shifted closer as well, until Harry could feel the heat of his body against his entire right side. "I'm not the person I was under the potion's influence either."

"So who are you, then?" the brunet wondered, cupping Draco's jaw with one hand and turning him more fully to face Harry. "How much of you do I really know?"

"H-how much do you want to know?" The question left Malfoy's mouth in a trembling rush, and Harry could practically taste the terror of the other boy on his tongue. It seemed to hang in the air like smoke.

"I want to know everything, Draco," Harry murmured, deciding that if Draco was allowing him to stroke his cheek like that with one thumb, hold his jaw in such an intimate way and stare into his eyes from so close a distance, he would most likely not object too much to Harry kissing him.

So he did.

With a sharp gasp, both of Malfoy's hands instantly tangled themselves in Harry's hair, his mouth trembling beneath Harry's own as the blond parted his lips cautiously, as though expecting Harry to disappear the moment he returned the kiss.

"Draco," Harry mumbled into Malfoy's mouth, and Malfoy gasped again, surging forward to claim Harry's mouth in a kiss deep enough to pierce bone. Suddenly, they were both wrapped around one another, kissing each other as though their very lives depended on it, but Harry could not seem to make himself slow down or lose the edge of desperation their every touch was seared with.

"Harry," Draco whimpered, suddenly surprising the both of them by swinging one knee over Harry's thighs to straddle the brunet where he sat on the large table, grabbing Harry's hair more tightly as he pressed himself into Harry's body as best he could.

Without consciously being aware of ordering his hands to do anything, Harry reached down and grabbed Draco's hips tightly, pulling him even closer and then closer still, as close as possible—it would never be close enough. "Fuck," he moaned, gripping Malfoy's hips even tighter until he was convinced it must be hurting the other boy, but Draco did not utter a single word of complaint, simply kissing Harry even harder. "Fuck, Draco, _god_!" He paused to shudder at the feel of Draco's teeth scraping lightly against his bottom lip. "This really is you, right? Oh, Christ, _please_ tell me that this really is you! Please tell me you're not still under the effects of a potion! Please tell me that you really want this!" Harry's mind was spinning so fast that he had no idea which thought to settle on, other than the growing fear that the Draco he was holding was only there because something was forcing him to be.

"It's me, Harry," Draco whispered in his ear, biting down on the lobe and earning another shudder. "It really is me this time, in my right mind and everything, I promise. And you have no idea how much I want this."

Harry moaned again, nodding frantically and gasping as Malfoy ground his hips down against Harry's; Harry could feel the both of them hardening against one another, and he was unsure what to do. Should they wait? Should they give in to what they both wanted? Would it be up to Harry to make the decision?

Draco's mouth skated across Harry's jaw, nipping at his chin and throat as he mumbled warm breaths across Harry's skin. "I want you, Harry. Please, let me make it all up to you. Let me show you how it can be between us without any outside influences, just the two of us, together. I want you right now. I've wanted you for so long."

"God, Draco," Harry panted mindlessly, feeling nearly frantic in his desperation for Draco to touch him, to allow himself to be touched by Harry, to be on top of him, underneath him, to feel himself inside Draco's willing body and know that the blond truly wanted every single touch.

But the moment that Draco started to tug at the fastenings of Harry's jeans, Harry's hands flew out to stop him. "Wait," he gasped, breathing heavily as he felt his heart attempting to hammer its way straight through his chest. "Wait, Draco."

"Wait?" Malfoy asked, head snapping back as he stared at Harry in wary confusion, but Harry could see fear buried in his eyes, and he raised a hand to Draco's jaw to guide him forward into a soft press of lips.

"I want to do this properly this time," the brunet said quietly, resting his forehead against Draco's own.

"Properly?" the blond wondered, stealing another kiss.

"Yes," Harry nodded, sliding both arms around Malfoy's waist to hold him tightly against his body. "I don't want us to have to sneak around or wait until everyone else has gone to sleep to see one another. I don't want us to rush into things like we did before. I want to be able to hold your hand in the corridors and eat breakfast together in the mornings."

From such close proximity, Harry felt the exact moment that Draco stopped breathing. "What are you saying, Harry?" he whispered, heart pounding furiously against Harry's chest, matching the hammering beat of his own racing heart.

"Would you…" Harry felt a fierce blush spread across his face and was sure that Draco could feel the heat from it, "would you, er…" Oh, god, how did he ask someone something like that? He hadn't asked anyone on a date since fifth year with Cho. _And look how that turned out_ , he thought wryly. He and Ginny had practically just jumped straight into their relationship; he had never really had to ask her out in actual words—they had gone pretty much straight from being friends to being boyfriend and girlfriend.

But with Draco, he wanted there to be no doubts between either of them.

"Will you, er, go on a date? Possibly? With me? Sometime, maybe, in the future? But only if you like. Er, please?" The moment he added the last bit he flushed even darker, wondering if he would ever, at any point in his life, ever stop being such a weird awkward berk about such things. _That would be really nice_ , he sighed internally, knowing he was doomed to an entire lifetime of socially awkward situations of his own creating.

At the clumsy string of questions, Malfoy pulled back in surprise, gazing at Harry in shock for nearly a full minute, until Harry was almost squirming with discomfort from the intensity of the other boy's gaze.

"Are you serious, Harry?" he finally asked in a low voice, climbing down from Harry's lap but stepping between his legs to peer closely at Harry's face. "Do you really mean that? You would really like to take me out on a date? In public?"

"Of course in public," Harry said automatically. "That was…my biggest regret, actually, when this whole thing was over. We had so few encounters, and never, ever got to go on a real date. I haven't been on very many, you know. Not real ones. My first one with Cho was a horrible awkward disaster that ended with her literally running from the teashop, and Ginny was more of a 'hang out and play Quidditch 'til you want to die' type of girlfriend rather than one for like, _date_ dates, you know? Which was fine, but…"

"But what?" Draco breathed, shifting even closer.

"But…" Harry squirmed again, wishing he could hide from Malfoy's penetrating silver gaze. "But, her and I…we had a real relationship, and there were definitely real feelings, but…I dunno, it was never…it was never really about actual romance for us, you know? We were just too—I dunno, similar, maybe, to one another? She has six older brothers and was always treated as one of the boys and never really held very much with the idea of romance, and I think my main problem was trying to reconcile my attraction for her with the sisterly sort of feelings I had from being best mates with her older brother and being practically adopted into the family by her parents. I'm not really sure how to explain it or what I even really feel about it, it's a whole mess of shit I usually prefer not to get into. Not to mention there's a part of me that's always been a bit weirded out by the fact that she's the only redheaded girl I've ever been close to, and that just always sort of reminds me of my mum. Plus, there are a lot of times that she reminds me of _her_ mum, and _her_ mum is the closest thing I've ever actually known to having a mum of my own, and _that_ is all even weirder than the conflicting feelings I was talking about earlier, so that always kind of killed the desire to really romance her in the way I had always wanted to with the person I ended up with, because I would grow up thinking about my parents and imagining what sort of relationship they must have had, and then I found out that my dad stayed behind to sacrifice himself for me and my mum, and then she sacrificed herself for me when she didn't have to, which is what I've always imagined real love to be, you know, being willing to sacrifice everything for the person you love, and that just sort of cemented this idea that relationships like that need real romance to create real love, I s'pose…like, Ginny and I were good together and definitely comfortable together, but there was no real…passion, maybe?" Harry paused, his face positively on fire from his ridiculous rambling that he could not seem to stop, no matter how hard he tried. He had no idea why he was saying any of those things. "I just—I just want to—"

"Are you saying you want to romance me, Harry?" Draco asked softly, tilting Harry's chin up to meet his gaze, and Harry nodded even as he felt his cheeks burn hotter and hotter.

"Yeah, I s'pose I do," he said, yanking his chin from Malfoy's hold so he could drop his face down to stare at his lap. "And don't you dare laugh at me for wanting that," he said stiffly, legs preparing themselves to jump from the desk and run from the room if Malfoy dared laugh at Harry to his face for his misplaced idealistic romanticisms he had secretly harbored since childhood.

"I promise you," Draco whispered, forcing Harry's chin up again and bending low to speak his words an inch from Harry's mouth, "that laughter is the furthest thing from my mind right now."

The final inch between them was erased as Draco pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to Harry's mouth, one that Harry felt himself melt into. God, he loved kissing Draco.

"Does that mean yes?" he wondered, pulling back to peer up at the blond.

Draco rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly as he pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's mouth. "Do you really need to even ask that, after I already confessed to keeping a bloody journal about you for the past three years?"

"Right," Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around Malfoy's waist, "I had nearly forgotten."

Draco rolled his eyes again even as his smile widened. "So," he murmured, raking a hand through Harry's hair and earning a happy sigh, "a date, then?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I mean, I'm warning you right now that I'll most likely be absolute rubbish at it." Malfoy shook his head and laughed, and Harry couldn't help but return the grin. "But I want to at least try. I mean, I'm not really sure where people actually _go_ on first dates, but you were raised in a family of super posh high-cultured toffs, yeah? I'm sure you know at least one place we can go."

"Wow," Malfoy drawled, eyes twinkling, "and after such flattering compliments."

Harry laughed. "Oh come on, Malfoy, you _do_ realize that you are without a doubt the toffiest toff posho to ever step foot through the doors of this school, don't you?"

Draco smiled at him with a shake of his head. "Starting with the sweet talk already, I see."

"Yep," Harry grinned widely. "Get used to it now, Malfoy, 'cos that is the sort of sweet talk I come with."

"Well, I can't wait to see what you save for our first date, then," Draco murmured, kissing Harry before he could form any sort of reply. He clutched at Draco and moaned and decided that verbal replies were overrated.

"This weekend, then," Harry panted, finally breaking away from the all-consuming kiss. "I'll take you out this weekend. You can pick the place, and I'll even try to comb my hair down for the occasion if you like."

"You absolute gentleman," Draco teased, running both hands through Harry's hair. "But if you comb it down, I won't be able to spend the entire evening doing _this_ , now will I?" He raked his fingers along Harry's scalp and Harry couldn't help but shut his eyes with a smile and a slight moan. "You really do like this, don't you?"

"It feels so good," Harry said almost drunkenly. "Nobody ever really touches my hair, like ever. I think they're all afraid to go near it or something."

"Well, they can hardly be blamed for that, now can they?"

"Your turn with the sweet talk, I see," Harry chuckled.

"Eh, sweet talk, fact, public opinion, take your pick," Malfoy smiled, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

"You prat," he said softly, pulling him in close for a kiss. "God, I missed you so much these last two weeks."

"I know the feeling," Draco whispered. "I suppose, even though what she did really was spiteful and horrible, maybe we owe a debt of thanks to Astoria. We would surely never have found ourselves here if not for her vengeful meddling."

Harry was quite certain he would never thank her in his life for what she had done, but he didn't want to argue the point with Draco. "If we ever end up getting married, we can thank her in the invitation," Harry chuckled, loving the sound of Draco's laugh as he returned the amusement.

And as he pulled Harry in close for another deep, scorching kiss, making Harry's body feel alight with flames in contrast to the cold breeze still blowing past them through the open window of the tower, bathing the large room in silver moonlight and winter wind, wrapped up in Draco's warmth, the entire world feeling more perfect at that moment that it ever had before, Harry couldn't help but smile.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end! This little tale of woe of ours has come to an ending at last! I hope nobody was disappointed by it! This story was actually written because of my own personal disgust regarding the legality of love potions in the original HP books and the way they seemed to be made light of. It's basically romanticized GHB, and I don't understand why they were never outlawed in the novels. It's something that has bothered me for years.
> 
> Buuut, the boys did get their happy ending! I was toying with the idea of writing a li'l something about their first date, so maybe possibly look out for that in the future 😊
> 
> And now that this story is done, that leaves one WIP currently going for me (I just posted the newest chapter of _All but Death_ today) but still room for so much more! I started working on a new story not too long ago that I'm pretty excited about. It's a Muggle AU (my very first one!) with biker!Harry in a motorcycle club, riding motorcycles and being smexy. As he is wont to do. (And just like most of my other stories, shit's gonna get real drama real quick.) I'm gonna try and get the first chapter of it posted super soon, so look out for that one as well, especially if you like reading about drama and rival biker gangs! Because who doesn't, right?!
> 
> Anyway, thanks again, lovers! I adore all your cute anonymous faces! Let me know what you thought!


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